Empathy
by Drake Roberts
Summary: UPDATED! The new courier for the Daily Bugle has more connections than Spiderman realizes. The FoH gets involved, an X-Man comes to the rescue, and an enemy learns a valuable lesson. But that's just the beginning! Stars half the Marvel universe.
1. Prologue: The beginning

Empathy 

By: Drake Roberts 

STANDARD DISCLAIMER: All of the characters, save Izzy, are the creation of Marvel Comics. I do not wish to infringe on any of the rights they have with these character. I just borrowed them for a while in order to tell a story that takes place outside normal continuity. I am making no money off of this venture, although I would really like to, someday. This was mearly done out of love for the characters, and as a cure for writer's block. 

This is a sort of prologue to the other chapters that will be added to this. However, it can stand alone. The two stories are related, so I just put them together for simplicity's sake. 

I'm not sure exactly where in the comics this story takes place. I know it takes place after Iceman's father was nearly beat to death by the Friends of Humanity, but in later chapters, Gambit is still with the X-Men. So, let's just say it has very little continuity with any of the comics. Kind of like novels other authors write about the comics. 

Anyway, please, just humor me and go with the flow, especially in the Spiderman parts. I don't read the comic that often, and know I've gotten some things wrong. Feel free to enlighten me on my mistakes, but flames will only serve to warm my dorm room and feed my gargoyles. Enjoy, and send your thoughts to arrogantworms@hotmail.com. 

* * * * * * * * 

A circus. That's what this place reminded Izzy of, a circus. Reporters pecked away at PC keyboards and word processors. Phones rang and beepers chirped, sending a dull hum through the air. The constant babble drowned itself out into a constant roar. Only frantic hand and body gestures cut through the noise; no individual conversations rose above the clamber. Anyone new to this place got lost in the mayhem for the first few months. The Daily Bugle offices were every courier's worst nightmare, except for Izzy. Isabella thought of it as a challenge ready for undertaking and she learned quickly. In only two weeks she had navigated her way around and through most of the building's nooks and crannies. She prided herself in this, especially since she only delivered to the Daily Bugle every other day. Most of the couriers she worked with still didn't know the Bugle that well, and they had worked in New York for months. Apparently, though, this accomplishment failed to extend to J. Jonah Jameson's office. She'd been sitting outside the imposing double doors for over half an hour. The same thing happened every time she delivered here. Watching the others sitting, fidgeting, or pacing, she decided waiting this long was typical. 

Couriers, reporters, advertisers, and just about everyone else were all expected to wait until J. Jonah Jameson got good and ready to see them. Izzy secretly suspected he didn't even come in until around nine. She sighed and resigned herself to wait. 

* * * * * 

Spiderman scanned the streets while webslinging from building to building. He had hoped starting early with a swing around the skyscrapers would help clear his jumbled mind, but he'd been wrong. Something was nagging at him in the back of his mind. He was so restless, he couldn't sleep at night. Mary Jane informed him that the fact showed this morning after he tossed and turned all night long. 

"What's wrong, Peter. Are you worried about the bills?" she had asked. 

He scowled. If only it were that simple. "No, it's just . . . I don't know, something. I can't explain it." 

"You've got to relax, Tiger!" she exclaimed. "Maybe sometime around Christmas we can bury your alter ego for a weekend and get away, just the two of us." Mary Jane looked over at Peter, who had dozed off and threatened to plunge into his bowl of corn flakes any second. She looked at him with concern and cleared her throat loudly. Peter's head jerked up. 

"I'll expect you to report to bed immediately after your meeting with Mr. Jameson today, young man," she informed him sternly. 

Peter smiled at her thinly and kissed her goodbye. "I'll be back by noon," he assured her. 

Spiderman landed lightly on the roof of the Daily Bugle building and began to get back into his "civvies". His skintight uniform fit nicely under his shirt and slacks, but he couldn't get his mask to lay right under his shirt. He reluctantly slipped it into his bookbag and walked down to the building. Even at eight-thirty in the morning, the office was in full swing. 

Izzy spotted her way into Mr. Jameson's office as soon as he walked through the door. Actually, she was surprised he didn't bang into it. He didn't even look awake and it seemed only some supernatural force kept him from colliding by mere inches. She made a bee-line toward Peter as he walked around the cubicles. 

"How's it goin', Pete?" she asked jovially. 

"Uh, fine, Izzy," he answered, obviously distracted. 

Izzy peered up at him. He looked haggard. "You know," she said, "if you're going in there with J.J. you better wake up, real quick." 

"Yeah, I know," Peter replied, "I just had a rough night." 

"Looks more like a few," Izzy commented quietly concern, lending her voice a gentler tone. "Did you and Mary Jane get in a fight again?" 

"If only," he mumbled thinking of his and MJ's lack of romance the last few days because of his restlessness. 

Izzy smiled slyly. "If you took me in there, I would keep you on your toes." 

Peter chuckled. "Why would you want to stick your neck out for me?" 

"You have an appointment and I have a class in thirty minutes." 

"I thought at McCallister's School for Girls class started at eight o'clock. And isn't it against the rules to leave campus without permission from the headmistress?" 

"Ah, come on," Izzy wailed, "I've got to make a living, don't I? I'll just say that I didn't feel well this morning. It's the truth, basically. I felt awful for about two minutes this morning. Then, I figured out how to get past the guard at the front gate." 

"Alright, you can come in," he gave in opening the door, "but I don't think J.J. will like it very much." 

Izzy gave Peter a grateful smile and followed him into the office. She stood beside him watching J. Jonah Jameson pace behind his desk. Pacing seemed to be a catching habit at the Daily Bugle. 

"Parker, I'll make this quick." he bellowed. Izzy held back a snort. 

J.J. threw a manila envelope across his desk. "Here's the Agenda for the Presidential Visit to New York City. I want photos from every possible locale. His meetings, press conferences, charity balls; hell, I want pictures of him eating breakfast in his bathrobe!' 

"But the presidential visit is a month away, sir. Why give this to me now?" Peter asked. 

"I want you to memorize that folder. You need to have every minute of the president's day accounted for. "It will help you get more pictures that way." 

"I'm honored, Mr. Jameson." 

"Don't be, Parker. You're not the only one covering this story. I just think your luck finding hidden agendas everywhere might come in handy." J. Jonah Jameson stopped suddenly when he noticed Izzy standing beside Peter. 

"What are you doing here?" he grumbled 

"I've got Isaac's latest editorial," she sing-songed, waving the folder in her hand. 

"What's he got to say this time?" 

"Don't ask me, I'm just the messenger." 

Peter could have sworn that Jameson smiled slightly at the mention of Isaac's name. He snatched the envelope from Izzy and scanned the article quickly, lifting his eyebrows a few times. 

"With the ideas he throws around, I'm glad he uses a false name. I wouldn't want responsibility for his untimely death. Do you read his articles, Peter?" 

"Yes, actually," Peter replied hesitantly. "I find them very interesting." 

That wasn't the half of it. He felt downright giddy to be hearing good things about mutants these days. When Isaac's first editorial appeared in The Daily Bugle, the Friends of Humanity held a newspaper burning on the steps of the building. Jameson kept publishing the editorials anyway, though. He argued that everyone deserved to put their opinions in print, but Peter believed that he secretly appreciated the man's audacity for even submitting the article in the first place. That took guts, and J.J. admired gumption. He also enjoyed making a spectacle of his office; publicity was good for business. That didn't mean Jameson shared Isaac's stand on mutant rights, or his opinion that the X-Men were heroes. 

"Who is this guy?" Jameson asked Izzy, "and what would your uncle do if he knew you were delivering articles for him?" 

"My lips are sealed," Izzy answered a cold tone beneath her usual cheery banter, "and Uncle Henry doesn't have to know about it, Mr. Jameson. My opinions are my own. He has no say in what I think." 

"I believe that was a threat. You've got spirit. Just hope you don't get in over your head." Peter cleared his throat. "Anything else, sir?" 

"No, no, Parker. That's it. Get out of here and take Junior with you." 

Peter started to stuff the manila envelope into the bookbag he had over his shoulder. Izzy noticed his clumsiness as he fumbled with the zipper. "Poor guy," she thought. "He must be really stressed out about something." After several attempts, Peter finally slipped the manila envelope into the bookbag. Suddenly Isabella noticed a piece of red material poking out of a corner of his backpack. 

"What the, . ?" she thought frantically. 

"Parker?" Jameson questioned. "What is that? Is that. . . a mask?" 

When she saw Peter's look of panic, two things happened in a split second. Several inconsistent observations about Peter Parker fell into place, and she made a decision. Izzy snatched the mask out of his backpack and clutched it possessively to her chest.   
"You found it for me!" she exclaimed. She hugged Peter so hard her arms hurt. With her back now turned away from Jameson she mouthed "Play along," and winked at him confidently. 

"Found what?" J.J. bellowed, totally confused. 

"This Spiderman mask," she answered displaying it proudly and pulling it down over her face. It was still slightly damp near the mouth. He must have just taken it off. God, she still couldn't picture Pete lifting cars! "They had them for sale downtown." she said smiling, even though no one could see it through the mask. "Isn't it so neat?" 

J. Jonah Jameson looked like he was going to explode. "Do you know what your uncle would say if he saw you wearing that...that thing?!" 

She had forgotten about that. Man, listening to Jameson rant about Uncle Henry's judgments almost surpassed the multitude of lectures she'd received over the years. Oh, well. It was worth it for the looks on J.J. and Pete's faces. Maybe Jameson wouldn't tell. He didn't like her uncle that much anyway. She pulled off the mask and looked at him with the best puppy eyes she could muster with two seconds notice. 

"You won't tell him, will you?" Her expression showed worried innocence, but inwardly, she was thinking of strategies of revenge if Jameson insisted on informing Uncle Henry. 

J.J. scowled. "Just get out of my office. NOW!!" 

Izzy stuffed the mask in her pocket and she and Peter scurried out of Jameson's office. The second she reached the safety outside J.J.'s door, she leaned on the door heavily and sighed. A reporter looked at her sympathetically. 

"That bad?" he asked. 

"You have no idea!" Peter exclaimed. 

The two walked out of the waiting room and into the maze of cubicles beyond. Peter pulled Izzy aside. "Meet me on the roof in ten minutes. We have to talk," he whispered. 

Izzy nodded and headed through the cubicles toward the stairwell, still in shock by the magnitude of the secret she had just become a part of. And she had thought today would be boring. 

Izzy sat with her back against one of the legs of a microwave tower. She didn't like tall buildings that much. So, instead of looking out at the surrounding buildings, she focused on the note cards clamped in her hands. She was so engrossed that she jumped when Peter Parker tapped her on the shoulder. Peter sighed and sat down beside her. 

"Thank you, Izzy. I owe my secret to you." 

"It's nothing, really," she responded, blushing. "Secrets are nothing new for me. I grew up with tons of them." 

Peter looked at her curiously, but continued without commenting. "Uncovering Spiderman's secret identity would earn major points with J.J." He looked at her suspiciously. "How long have you known?" 

"Don't worry. I just found out down there in J.J."s office," she assured him. "I could have kicked myself for not finding out sooner. Once I saw that mask, so many things fell into place. Your sudden disappearances, the days when you come in the Bugle with just the slightest limp or stiff movement. . ." She smiled at him. "No wonder you get such great shots of Spidey." 

"Why did you do it?" 

"It's just. . ." She looked over at Peter. "You're a hero, Pete. I couldn't rat on one of the best things to happen to New York since running water." 

"With all the bad press, I'm surprised you think so." 

"What, are you kidding? I don't listen exclusively to the press. I find out my facts for myself. I would be insulting my own intelligence if I did anything else. You would think in a city with so many interesting things going on at once, people would look _up_ once in a while. Reporters don't even look up, and they miss a whole part of the city, full of stories. Most of the time Spidey's the guy who keeps the baddies from reaching street level." 

Parker smiled despite himself. "I appreciate the vote of confidence." He quickly became serious. "You know you can't tell anyone about this. Not the press, not your friends, or your uncle, whoever he is." 

"No way!" she exclaimed. "If I told him, the whole world might as well know. You can trust me to keep your secret. Just as long as you help me move my furniture sometime. Super strength does have its advantages." 

Peter looked at her and laughed. "It sounds like you've been planning this." 

"I figured the only way you could get such exclusive pictures was if you knew the webhead himself," she explained. "I was going to ask if you could pull some strings some time." She looked at him critically, "Oh, and while I'm giving orders, get some sleep. You look like you're about to keel over, Pete." 

Izzy threw Peter his mask which he quickly donned with the rest of his red and blue costume. 

"If I can ever get this nagging feeling out of my mind, I will." He shot a line of webbing and swung away. 

"I wish I could make an exit like that." Izzy thought as she looked over the void, for some reason not nearly as nervous as she had been only minutes before. She glanced at her watch. 

"Aww, shoot! I'm late!" She ran to the stairwell and headed for the ground floor. "Mrs. Baldwin's going to kill me." 

* * * * * 

Robert Drake smiled at his father as they walked down the streets of Manhattan. A few months ago, Bobby had wondered if his dad would ever walk again. But, he was walking now, proof of his father's stubbornness and unwillingness to give up. Bobby felt closer to his father than he had in years, maybe ever. 

"It's a beautiful day, isn't it?" Bobby stated. 

"That it is, son," his father answered him, hugging him with one arm around his shoulders. 

Bobby sighed, content just to walk beside his father. At times like this, Bobby hardly missed the X-Men. At times like this he told himself he needed this time away from the fast lane. 

He knew no one would argue with him. Things had happened to him over the years, and as much as he played them down as wacky misadventures, had affected him. Creed and Bastion only icinged the cake, so to speak. He couldn't help but wonder sometimes, though. Did they even miss him? He pushed the thought aside even as it arose. Hank had come to visit today. At least old Furball missed him. 

Bobby's father looked at his son and saw the uncharacteristically serious expression on his face. "What's bothering you, Bobby?" he asked concerned. 

"Nothing, I'm just thinking." 

"About the X-Men, right? You know, you can go back any time you want." 

"I know, Dad. I'm just. . ." Bobby shook his head, "I don't know. It just doesn't seem like it's the right time. Something..... " 

Suddenly, the sound of trash cans crashing in the alley interrupted the father-son conversation. Bobby saw a few startled pedestrians jump back nervously, then walk on, careful to stay clear of the action. Sometimes people's apathy toward the safety of their fellow man made his blood boil. And for someone who could freeze nuclear reactors with little more than a thought, that was a hard task. He didn't expect them to fight off the bad guys, _he_ didn't even like to fight unless he had to, but there were phones everywhere in this city. Someone could call the police. 

"I'll be right back, Pop." He left before his father could argue. "Go call the police." 

Bobby's father watched his son go. Whether Bobby realized it or not, his father looked up to him. "I wish there were more people like you, son. People might not think as badly of mutants." he thought. 

Bobby changed into his ice form and approached the alley cautiously. 

"Let go of me, you creep!" someone shouted. He heard scuffling, following by more crashing trash cans. Suddenly he heard one of the lids strike a body and a gruff exclamation of pain. 

"You'll pay for that! Now listen, we know you got connections, girlie. Tell us where to find them!" 

"You didn't ask nicely. . ." Iceman heard the impact of a man's fists as he started down the alley. 

He could see the group more clearly now. Two rejects from the Godfather in black suits and long trenchcoats were trying to pound information out of. . .a girl? The mere thought of those guys pounding on her disgusted him. Didn't these creeps have anything better to do? 

"Hey, dirtbags. Why don't you pick on someone who can fight back?" 

The thug holding the girl turned. "Well, well, well, isn't this just our lucky day? Pound on a mutielover and the freaks come out." He threw the girl aside. 

When he saw the girl slam into the wall and slide to the ground, something snapped. In two seconds the thugs were encased from the necks down in eight foot blocks of ice. They couldn't move their heads back and forth and their feet didn't even touch the ground. Iceman ran over to the fallen girl. 

"Are you alright?" 

The girl's eyes cracked open slightly. She gazed at the thugsicles and the man of ice kneeling beside her. "You're a mutant, aren't you?" she asked, stating the obvious. 

Bobby stared at her, afraid to answer. What if she freaked out and started screaming? 

She smiled, "Cool." Her eyes closed and her face fell back to the pavement. 

Bobby's father walked up and stood behind him. "What's going on?" 

"Just an example of how low people can go," Iceman answered bitterly. He pointed over to the frostbitten thugs. "Those guys couldn't find anyone else to terrorize, so they pounded on this innocent girl." 

"Innocent?" one of the thugs cried. "She's a gene traitor. A human who advocates coexistence between real humans and mutant scum! She couriers for Isaac." 

"Isaac, I've heard of that name," Iceman thought. "I'll have to ask Hank about it when we get back." 

Mr. Drake's eyes widened as recognition hit him. He'd seen these men before. He quickly averted his face before they could get a good look at him and clenched his fists in silent fury. The faint wail of police sirens sounded a few blocks away. Bobby picked up the girl. She weighed a little more than Rogue or Storm, but he'd carried heavier people before. 

"Come on, son. Let's go." 

Iceman quickly formed an ice slide beneath him. "Hop on. We'll take the fast way." 

Mr. Drake clutched Iceman's shoulders and the three sped off though the New York skyline. "Where to?" Iceman called over his shoulder. 

"Let's take her home. Hank can take a look at her." 

"Yeah. Blueboy needs the practice," Iceman agreed. 

They sped on in silence. Iceman had seen his father's reaction to the two men even though he had hidden it quickly. Years with the X-Men had taught him more than fighting skills. It made him wish he'd built up the ice blocks a few inches further. Friends of Humanity. The very word invoked a deep resentment, almost hatred that was rare for Bobby. The feeling scared him a little, to tell the truth. Well, his father was safe and so was this mystery girl. That would be enough, for now. 

A forklift loaded the thugs into an extra large paddy wagon. A comical scene, but the police weren't laughing. Their investigation had been usurped by a higher authority. His green suit, sunglasses, and shockingly red hair stood out among the dark suited NYPD. Surprisingly though, he had come alone. 

"Alright, everyone clear out. This is a federal investigation. I want everyone to leave the scene and all evidence as they found it. Hopefully we can find a lead to Isabella Perry's whereabouts." 

If Spiderman hadn't been hiding from the prying eyes of Gyrich and the police, he'd have gasped. As it was, he nearly fell off his perch five stories above the alley. "I should have taken her home," he thought miserably. He knew exactly who those thugs were too. He'd seen them at the newspaper burning. He hoped the definite evidence of Iceman's handiwork meant she was in safe hands. But, something still needed clarifying. Spidey had to deal with Gyrich. 

The police cleared out quickly, afraid of angering the unpredictable Gyrich. Spiderman watched as they left, leaving Gyrich completely alone at the crime scene, which was surprising. But, it didn't compare to what happened next. Gyrich slumped down against a wall of the alley and laid his forehead on his knees, clearly upset. Spidey was taken aback. He'd never witnessed this side of HPG. He cautiously climbed down the wall until he was level with him. 

"Gyrich?" he asked tentatively, still clinging to the wall and ready to escape at the first sign of trouble. 

Gyrich jumped, startled and glared at Spiderman. "What are you doing here? Did you have anything to do with this?" he spat angrily. 

"No, I want to figure out what happened to Isabella Perry just as much as you," Spiderman said more forcefully than he intended. 

"You and Iceman conspired together. You thought kidnapping an innocent girl would be an easy terrorist action, but you were mistaken! I'll have you put away for a hundred years for kidnapping my niece!" 

"His niece!" Spiderman thought frantically. "He's _Uncle_ Henry? No wonder she said if she told him who I was everyone would know." 

"Don't play stupid with me Spiderman. What do you hope to gain by kidnapping her?" 

"Listen to me!" Spiderman shouted, silencing Gyrich. "I haven't done anything with Isabella, and neither has Iceman. I know you are upset, I would be too, but that doesn't give you a reason to blame the entire mutant race. If you'd examine the clues, namely the blocks of ice enclosing the two thugs, you would see Iceman was fighting FoH members. Considering their overall attitude, I'd guess they attacked your niece." 

"What would the Friends of Humanity want with my niece?" Gyrich asked a little more calmly. 

"I don't know," Spiderman answered coldly. "You're probably an honored member." 

"I would never join the Friends of Humanity," Gyrich replied coldly, surprising Spiderman considerably. "That group of vigilantes does more harm than good. Mutancy is a curse, not a death warrant," Gyrich thought for a moment. "And there's no way they could have learned of her connection with me. She wouldn't be that careless." 

Several things fell into place at once as Spidey began putting the pieces of Izzy's abduction together. "It's not you they wanted," Spiderman informed him, "It was her." 

"I don't follow." 

Spiderman sighed, "She'll kill me when she finds out I told him," he thought, "but here goes." "Your niece delivers Isaac's editorials to the Daily Bugle," Spiderman told Gyrich. 

"What!" Gyrich shouted. "Why would she do that? She doesn't need the money." 

"My guess is she believes in what he says. She obviously grew up smarter than you, Gyrich. I'm surprised you're related. She behaves like a _decent_ human being." 

Gyrich glowered at Spiderman. "Izzy has always been free spirited. I never wanted to destroy that part of her. Maybe I was wrong." 

Spiderman watched him in silence. So, there was a different side of Gyrich. He actually cared about someone other than himself. Too bad he didn't show this side of himself more often. 

"If my guess is right, the Friends of Humanity hoped to learn Isaac's real identity from her," Spiderman concluded. 

Gyrich nodded. "Then the X-Men, or at least Iceman, showed up and stopped them in his own original fashion. That still doesn't explain why she's missing. I don't trust them. Why didn't they just leave her here? Spiderman. . .?" Gyrich looked over at the wall. Spiderman was gone. 

"Great," he mumbled. Gyrich stood up and began collecting evidence. He looked up at the now darkening sky. "I just hope you're right, and she's safe." 

* * * * * 

At that moment, things were more relaxed at the Drake home. Beast finished examining the girl now laying on the living room sofa and spread a quilt over her. Bobby sat on the arm of a chair reading through a small stack of note cards. 

"Hank, you won't believe what I just read," Bobby told him. 

"Why, did you discover her plans for world domination in that bookbag?" 

"No, just her speech for Communications Day at her school. She really went out on a limb with this. I almost feel sorry she didn't get to give it." 

"To keep your attention, it must contain the secrets of the universe," Beast commented as he examined the bruise on Izzy's temple. "Please, illuminate me." 

Bobby cleared his throat loudly. "Charles Manson, Ted Bundy, Jeffrey Daumer, what do all these people have in common? If you answered they were serial killers, you are only half right. They were also 100% _Homo sapien_. A mutant gene by no means makes a criminal. The human race did fine on its own before. Critics say that mutants' powers makes them a threat. They pose no more of a threat than someone with an AK-47, probably even less. Most mutants don't even rate Alpha. We must accept _Homo sapien superior _or we will soon be faced with dire consequences. A mutation is only a difference, like having six toes or being lactose intolerant. No one chooses to be a mutant, even children of mutants are not guaranteed to carry the X- factor. 

Mutancy usually displays itself near the onset of puberty, a time of great uncertainty. Believe me, I know I'm very confused right now. When most mutant "powers" assert themselves, the unprepared teenagers has no way to control them. Being chased by an angry, panic driven mob does not help this situation. How would you like it if people tried to kill you because you suffer from myopia, which is, by the way, another genetic imperfection? The prospect might sound silly to you, but what difference is there, really? These "muties" are dangerous, you might say. You're wrong, these people are your brothers, sisters, children, neighbors. They eat, sleep, watch TV, and go to school or work just like everyone else. These people, these humans, have the same hopes and dreams as anyone here. 

When is everyone going to stop chasing scared children they should be helping? Doesn't anyone in Congress trying to pass Mutant Registration Laws realize how much the entire planet could benefit if they pushed aside their own fears and feelings of inadequacy and just accepted mutants? Don't any of these hypocrites have children? What if one day, your child started to display some of these "unnatural powers"? Would you cart them off to be registered, or take them directly to the Sentinels to be dealt with? If we banded together, the possibilities would become endless. A police force with a partial mutant percentage could stop human and mutant criminals alike. A flying fireman could greatly improve rescue time in high rise buildings where it's nearly impossible for ladders to reach. And telepaths would be invaluable in helping to find murders, thieves, and even lost children. 

There's no need to get hysterical. Would you want to hear everyone's thoughts around you every minute of every day? Of course not, and neither do telepaths. If people with potentially threatening powers are taught to control and told the ethics of using them early, then we have nothing to fear. In fact, we only have everything to gain." 

"It's a good thing you rescued her before the Friends of Humanity looked in her bookbag. That speech wouldn't have improved their opinion of her," Beast commented. 

"There's still so much that I don't understand," Bobby said. "Why would those gangster rejects be roughing her up for information? Who is she? Nothing makes sense." 

"I believe you have just stumbled upon one of the profound truths of life, Robert, my boy," Beast observed drolly. 

"Well, Dr. McCoy, what's the verdict," Mr. Drake asked. 

"She's got a few cracked ribs and some bruises, but Mrs. McCoy's bouncing baby boy predicts she'll make a full recovery in no time." 

Izzy moaned and her eyelids fluttered. 

"You weren't kidding, Furball," Bobby proclaimed. 

"Alas, I did not believe our Sleeping Beauty would awaken so soon. She's giving Wolverine phenomenal competition in the healing field." 

"Ooh, my head," Izzy mumbled. She brought her hand up to her forehead to try and stop its pounding. "Did anyone get the number of that bus?" 

"Another comedian," Mr. Drake muttered goodheartedly. "_Just_ what we needed." 

Realizing she was no longer in the alley, Izzy suspiciously took in her new surroundings. She spied Beast, but she didn't say anything. Usually seeing Beast preceded a earpiercing scream. "Where am I?" she asked after taking in the whole room. 

"Away from those goons, that's for sure," came a voice from the window. Hank and Bobby turned to see Spiderman perched on the windowsill. "How're you feeling, Izzy?" 

"I've seen better days, Spidey," Izzy answered, smiling weakly. She looked up at Bobby, Mr. Drake, and Hank. "Thanks for the save, by the way. Those goons would have worked me over good if you hadn't showed up." 

"No problem, Izzy. It was worth it so I could read your speech," Bobby said. 

Izzy blushed. Bobby looked over at Spiderman, who had by now made his way into the house. " I guess you know Izzy, but how did you find us?" he asked. 

Spidey walked over to Izzy's jacket and reached under the collar. He pulled out a spider tracer. "Old habits die hard. I wanted to keep an eye on her, just in case." 

"I assume you know where this young woman lives?" Beast asked looking at him over his spectacles. 

"I just finished talking to her uncle," Spiderman stated. 

Izzy paled a few shades. "You talked to Uncle _Henry_?" She fidgeted uncomfortably on the couch. Bobby wondered who this "Uncle Henry" was. 

"Yep. He's worried about you. I should take you home before he decides to turn this town upside down. Dr. McCoy, is it okay if I give her a lift to her uncle's apartment?" 

"I could go with you," Bobby offered. 

"NO!" Izzy exclaimed. "I mean, Uncle Henry is peculiar around strangers. You wouldn't like to meet him at a time like this." 

Bobby looked at her suspiciously, but didn't comment. 

"Actually, I think he should come and show your uncle he meant well," Spiderman argued. "We wouldn't want him to freak out, would we?" 

"Good God, no. By all means, let's go!" 

"Be careful not to pitch young Izzy around too much," Beast warned. "She's been through enough today. I would suggest that Iceman carry her." He looked at Spiderman sympathetically. "Not that I believe you would not use the utmost care." 

"Don't worry," Spiderman assured him. "I understand. My ego will survive." 

Bobby gently lifted Izzy from the couch, leaving the blanket over her. "Don't want you to get frostbite," he commented good-naturedly. 

As Spidey, Iceman, and Izzy traversed the New York skyline, Iceman tried to figure out exactly why Izzy had been involved in the incident earlier. 

"Do you have any idea why those thugs were after you today?" he asked her. 

She mulled the question over for a few moments. "I guess I owe you an explanation, but what I tell you is in strict confidence, deal?" 

Iceman smiled, "Of course. I wouldn't have it any other way." 

Izzy took a deep breath. "I courier for Isaac. They thought that since he wrote so much about mutants, he might know a few. They were looking for information on the location of the X-Men, ironically enough." 

"That's why that thug reacted the way he did when I got there," Iceman realized. "But why would they FOH want to know about the X-Men? It's not their style to attack head on." 

"Did they know anything else, other than the Isaac thing?" Spidey asked. 

"No, they just wanted to know Isaac's connections," she replied. 

"I don't quite follow you," Iceman commented. "What are you two talking about?" 

"As you'll soon find out," Izzy informed him, "I have more connections than your average sixteen year old. I'd tell you, but I don't want to ruin the surprise." 

Iceman was left to ponder this strange development as silence fell over the group. The three continued on wordlessly across town. Sometime along the way, Izzy had fallen back asleep in Iceman's arms. This girl had been in Iceman's life for only a few hours, but she had already raised more questions than he had dealt with in weeks. And it seemed there were more to come. 

The two slowed as they approached one of the many highrise hotels in Manhattan. Iceman wondered why Izzy's uncle would be staying in a hotel instead of one of the nearby highrise apartments. Whose niece was she? The answer came sooner than he expected. 

They arrived at a window on the eleventh floor. Spiderman jumped onto the wall of the building and tapped on the window pane. Iceman heard the faint echo of movement inside the room before he saw a man approach the window. 

"Don't turn on your light," he heard Spiderman call to the man, but he barely noticed. He had just seen Uncle Henry. 

"Gyrich? Izzy's your niece?" he said, still in shock. 

Gyrich threw open the window and he and Iceman stood face to face. He noticed Izzy asleep in Iceman's arms. "What have you done to her!" he spat viciously. 

"N, nothing," Iceman argued, coming to his senses. He realized what the scene might look like to Gyrich and continued on in a subdued tone "She has a couple of cracked ribs and a nasty bump on her head, but she'll be fine." 

"Thanks to him," Spidey interrupted with much more bite. "He got her out of a dangerous situation. You should be a little more grateful." 

"No, it's okay," Iceman argued. He could tell from the look in Gyrich's eyes that the last thing on his mind was thanking him. As much reason as the man had given Iceman to hate him, he knew how Gyrich was feeling. Frustrated, helpless, angry that someone could something like this to an innocent bystander, only guilty of standing up for what they believed in. Iceman knew all too well. He moved closer to the window and deposited Izzy in Gyrich's arms. "I just did what I hope someone would do if someone I loved was in trouble." Iceman turned and sped off into the night on an ice slide. 

"She's a good kid," Spiderman told Gyrich. "I hope you appreciate her." With that, Spidey also took his leave. 

Gyrich laid Isabella on the bed and closed the window to keep out the night chill. When he got back to the bedside Izzy stirred and opened her eyes. 

"Are you alright, Isabella?" he asked with concern. 

"I'm fine, Uncle Henry. Iceman saved me. They both helped me. Really, I'm fine." 

"Get some sleep," he told her gently. "I'll call the school and tell them you're staying with me for a few days. The headmistress is probably worried sick by now. . ." 

He turned to Izzy, but she had already fallen back asleep. He pulled the covers up to her chin and stroked her cheek lovingly. He stood and regarded her, sleeping soundly. A few hours ago, his life had been ripped apart when he found out she was missing. Now, she was safe and sound with him again, thanks to a person whose existence he'd threatened for years. The man had made no snide remarks, no demands of thanks, just a statement of understanding. It was one of the first pure acts of kindness even indirectly focused on him in his life. 

"Thank you," Gyrich whispered, gazing out into the cold Manhattan night. 

* * * * * 


	2. The plot thickens. . .

Empathy 

Part Two 

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Unfortunately, these characters aren't mine. They're Marvel's. I hope they appreciate what they have. Allison Stills and Isabella Perry are mine however, and I do appreciate them. Very much. Also, forget about any sort of continuity in this story. Just hold on for the ride. It's gets bumpy, and complicated. But, don't worry, it gets even more complicated in the next part I'm working on, due out sometime before the beginning of the next millennium. Please forgive my many mistakes, and send any comments, or questions to arrogantworms@hotmail.com. Flames will be used to heat my frigid dorm room. 

Another note: 

#This is a telepathic communication. Please notice the number signs at the beginning and end of it.# 

Everything else should be self explanatory. But I could be wrong. On with the story! 

_Two weeks later. . . _

New York City's harbor thrummed with constant activity by day, but at night the only sound was sea water crashing into the piers and rats scavenging for food. A suited man carrying a briefcase strode into a seemingly abandoned warehouse. The place gave him the creeps. The man pushed a small pile of straw aside with his shoe and surveyed the room in distaste. 

"I can't believe I'm meeting here," he mumbled. 

"Why is that, my good sir?" 

The suited man jumped raising a cloud of dust. "Geez," he yelped clutching his chest, "you nearly gave me a heart attack, lady!" 

"Please, Nelson. You're still a young man," she contradicted, "and in the future, refer to me as Ms. Stills. It's much more professional that way." 

Nelson nodded stiffly and set his briefcase on a rickety crate. "Why are we meeting here, anyway?" 

"For the atmosphere, of course." Ms. Stills remarked. "People don't trade illegal information at Starbuck's." 

"Ah, now I see," Nelson said. "You're insane." 

Stills laughed, a chilling cackle that made Nelson's insides freeze. This lady personified insanity. Needless to say, she made his skin crawl. How could anyone so heartstoppingly beautiful act so coldly? 

"Now let's get down to business. Do you have the information I requested?" 

"Yeah, sure. The presidential agenda and X-men bios, at least everything I could dig up about them, are in this briefcase. Those X-guys are hard to track down!" 

"Did you think it would be easy?" Ms. Stills asked smiling insincerely. She slid the briefcase over in front of her and ruffled through its contents. As she scanned the documents, the smile on her face got wider and wider. 

"Mutagenic signatures, Potential Destructive Estimations, Known Allies, and Last sightings. . . Wait a second, some of these sightings are years old. And there are no real names or extended family members. How am I supposed to draw the X-Men into the open without proper information?" 

"You have their mutagenic signatures. It took me weeks to find what little information I found. You think that big time outlaws like the X-Men would just lie down their records and say 'Come get me?' These guys are not stupid. They know how to disappear." 

"What you say makes sense, Nelson, for once. I guess this information is adequate. A few of these leads may prove useful. And the presidential agenda is impeccable. Good job." She buried her head back into the files, chuckling when she found something interesting. 

"What gets me," Nelson commented, "is why you didn't just get all this information from your boss." 

"He may loathe mutants as much as I do, but he plays by the book. He wouldn't disclose sensitive information like this to anyone lower than him," she informed him bitterly. "Speaking of which, there's one rule about illegal exchanges you forgot." 

"What's that?" 

"Always make sure you and your contact are alone." 

Nelson never saw the man with the pipe coming. Ms. Stills slid back a few steps so he wouldn't land on her new shoes. Two dark suited men picked him up under the arms. 

"Take him to the basement. I'm sure we can find some use for him. Then I want you to evaluate these bios. Selection will begin immediately." 

* * * * * 

Bobby Drake walked down the sidewalk, a grocery bag in each arm. He smiled and started whistling offkey as he headed toward home. His mother was cooking his father's favorite tonight, so she had sent him to get the necessary supplies. The sun shone down, reflecting heat off the ground in minuscule waves that few people other than him could see and warming the street level just enough for Bobby to feel really comfortable. Life was good. Today, Hank told him he would be in New York City to speak at some school in a week, and had promised to stop by for a visit. He had not seen the furball in a while, and had missed the big guy's company. It would be good to see him again. Still whistling, he turned down the sidestreet leading to his house. 

"Well, well, well. What have we here?" a voice called from behind him. 

Bobby stopped walking. He knew what that tone of voice implied. "I don't want any trouble. . ." He started walking toward home again, slowly. 

"That's just too bad," the voice said, mocking him. "Because you started causing trouble the moment you were born, mutie!" 

With surprising speed, the man grabbed Bobby from behind. Bobby quickly threw him over his shoulder and into the garbage cans in the driveway across the street. The man, only a boy actually, Bobby realized with a shock, shook his head to clear it. When he lifted his head again, he stared at Bobby with a look of such unmasked hatred that Bobby stopped short of attacking him in return. 

"What do you want?" Bobby asked confused and angry. "What have I ever done to you?" 

The boy struggled to escape the Rubbermaid prison he'd found himself in for a few more seconds, then shrugged, still caught in the heap of garbage. "Don't worry mutie, you'll be paying for it soon enough." 

A sudden jolt in his back caused him to jerk upright. Electrical current rippled through his synapses, paralyzing his muscles. The shock abruptly ended and Bobby fell to his knees, and onto the grocery bags. "Damn," he thought groggily. "I should have seen that other guy coming." 

He struggled to stand, but a swift kick to his abdomen sent him back to the street. Bobby lashed out blindly, knocking one of the men off his feet. The man swore savagely and kicked him in the jaw, sending Bobby sprawling. "No more fun and games, freak." Something slammed into the back of Bobby's skull and he felt no more. 

The large man with the tire iron held a hand out to the boy still struggling to escape the trashcans. The boy took it gratefully and was hoisted to his feet. 

"Stupid mutie scum!" He immediately raced over to the fallen mutant, and proceded to kick his ribcage repeatedly. 

The larger man grabbed the young man's shoulder. "Easy, kid. We were ordered to bring him in with as little confrontation as possible." The man took a walkie talkie out of his coat pocket. "We got him, boss. Piece of cake, he never saw us coming. Should we go after some more while we're out?" 

The walkie talkie crackled and spat static. "No. Inject the specimen and bring him to home base. Did he have any identificdation on him?" 

The boy stood up and took out his walkie talkie. "I just checked, nothing. No driver's license, credit cards, dude wasn't even carrying a wallet on him." 

"Then, by all means, take a snapshot," she ordered. 

"Uhh." 

"What is it, Murray?" 

". . . . . I forgot the camera." 

Murray and the younger man both ducked their heads, scanning the area for snipers poised to end their miserable existences. When nothing happened, they then braced themselves for the barrage of swearing and scolding to come. Surprisingly, though, it never did. 

The two heard their boss laugh over the static of the walkie talkie. "Then I guess we will have to do this the hard way. Don't forget to plant the evidence. Hurry back now. The suspense is killing me!" 

* * * * * 

Ms. Drake trudged up the stairs toward the bedroom where her only son had been staying ever since the incident. Incident. Everyone she'd met in town had called it that. She'd heard that particular phrase so many times concerning her husband that she'd even begun referring to it that way in her own mind. No one ever wanted to mention the fact that the Friends of Humanity had nearly killed a "normal" man just for exercising his right to free speech. It didn't fit with their thoughts on the group. So it was just "that incident your husband was in a while back." She had been so happy when Bobby had decided to stay while William recovered. They got along so much better now, and it had certainly kept her sane. He was always willing to help out around the house, and run errands. 

She had sent him to the market hours ago; surely he should have gotten back by now. Maybe he had come in via the second story window. Over the years, it had become his favorite entranceway, especially when he wanted to frighten his parents out of their wits. Her son had always been a joker. 

When she reached the doorway, she was surprised to see it missing her son. Two bags of groceries sat in the middle of the bed, with a note placed in front of them. Curious, she picked up the paper and began to read. 

_Sorry to barge out this way, but it's time I returned to the X-Men. They are a part of my life and my family. Whether they want me or not, I'm going home. I know you both will understand. I'll stay in touch._

Bobby's mom smiled sadly. She knew he had been restless over the last couple of weeks and that he would eventually go back to the X-Men. But, he had just got here. Tears welled up in her eyes, unbidden and she chided herself. He would be back, she reassured herself. He always was. 

* * * * * 

Iceman woke to darkness and confinement. His mouth was dry and tasted musty, his arms throbbed from where they had been pulled behind his back and tied too tightly. The bumpy movement all around him told him he was lying in a vehicle, but that was not what worried him the most. His head was fuzzy and his thoughts unclear, much more than they should be from just a blow to the head. Moreover, his entire body felt heavy and tingly, almost like a limb you sleep on too long. Something was wrong with him, but Iceman's muddled mind could not piece the clues together. 

The vehicle came to a sudden halt, causing Iceman's stomach to heave in protest. He feigned helplessness as he was lifted out of the vehicle and dragged toward an unknown destination. He felt the atmosphere grow warmer around him and the air quality change, signaling he had entered a building. He decided to continue faking unconsciousness, at least until he found out who had abducted him. 

"So, this is the best you could procure? I was expecting at least Angel. You disappoint me." The person talking walked toward Iceman, her heels clicking on the linoleum tile. "Well, let's dispense with the fanfare and unmask our X-Man!" 

When the woman struggled with the cloth covered Iceman's face, he acted quickly, changing to his ice form. It took more concentration than usual, but he hid his face before she got the cloth off his head. He saw a breathtakingly beautiful woman standing face to face with him. She howled with contempt at the sight of his icy face. 

"You fools!" she exclaimed. "He was supposed to still be unconscious!" 

"That's what you get for calling me second best," Iceman quipped. 

The woman gestured to one of the men beside her. Iceman grunted as the man's fist connected with his chin. "Get the collar," she ordered. 

Iceman was still having trouble concentrating on his surroundings, but at the mention of a collar he forced himself to focus. The same man who had just struck him a moment ago brought out an inhibitor collar. Iceman knew if the man got that thing on him, the game was over. He concentrated on the collar, lowering the temperature inside its casing. 

Everyone in the room jumped when the collar exploded into tiny shards of freezed dried silicon and plastic. The man swore and grabbed the hand he had been holding the collar with, trying to slow the flow of blood from a long gash on his palm. Iceman's head swam as energy drained from him. What was wrong with him? 

The mysterious woman just laughed. The other men around her tended to the injured guard. "So, the _boy_ has claws? More the better for me." the woman said with pleasure in her voice. "Load him into the tank." Before Iceman could recover, the men holding him threw him into another enclosure. Iceman stood and placed his hands on the glass which held him in. It formed a cylinder around him with a metal top and bottom. The woman came up to the glass. 

"I'll do this by the books. Who are you? Who do you work for?" 

Iceman forced down his nausea and smiled. "I thought that was obvious. My name's Frosty. I build igloos for disadvantaged Eskimos. I also do parties." 

The woman's lips curled into a twisted sort of smile. "I know your type. Arrogant, vile, and, in the end despicable cowards. You start out defiant and witty, but end up begging for your pathetic life." She smiled again. "Or, a quick death. Think you'll beat me? Don't worry, you'll change your mind." 

Iceman ignored his swimming head and the alarming decrease of moisture inside the "tank" as the woman had so poetically put it. "Give it your best shot, lady," he replied. 

* * * * * 

Part Three 

_One Week Later. . . _

_Massachusetts Academy_

"Yes, I see," Ms. Frost purred into the phone. "I would be delighted to participate. Nothing pleases me more than making an impact on today's youth." She looked over at Angelo Espinosa, a.k.a. Skin as he slipped into her office. "They are our future, after all." 

Emma gently placed the receiver back in its holder. She sat with her chair back facing Skin until she sensed him become uncomfortable. 

"Um, Ms. Frost?" he ventured hesitantly. "Was there a reason you called me to your office?" He smiled wryly. "'Cause if there's no problem, I can get back to my Calculus test. . ." 

"Do you have plans for next week?" she asked suddenly. 

"Scuse me, mujer?" he asked, confused. "You should know I have nowhere to go. All of my family, minus one cousin, think I'm dead. I can't just show up in the middle of the barrio." Angelo paused, feeling slightly annoyed. True, he could have asked Ev to take him to St. Louis, but he figured his family wanted to spend some quality time with him while he was back from school. Angelo always seemed to get in the way of quality time. 

Ms. Frost smiled. "That's what I thought. How would you like to accompany me to New York? I have to give a speech concerning women's roles in modern society. It's not the most exciting excursion in the world, but it does beat staying in Massachusetts. 

Angelo thought the proposal over. Almost everyone else had found a way to escape. Jubilee was going to the X-Mansion to spend the week with Wolverine. Paige was returning to her family in Kentucky with Jono in tow. Even Leech and Artie were going to spend the week with Franklin Richards. Only Monet and Penance would be left behind with Banshee over the break, and staying alone with Monet wasn't that appealing. Ever since the twins had switched bodies with Penance and the real Monet had surfaced, Skin had begun to feel slightly uncomfortable around the Algerian girl. Not that he'd been too secure around her before. 

"Why me?" he asked Ms. Frost. "You could take Monet. I'm sure she would enjoy New York. The two of you could go shopping, see Cats, do some kind of female girly-bonding thing." 

"Monet needs to stay here," Emma told him. "There are things she needs to sort out with her sisters that can only be accomplished while no prying eyes are lurking about." She smiled at him. "Besides, I need an escort." 

Skin almost fell out of the chair he was sitting in, "An escort? Emma Frost, la senora de mucho dinero, wants me, Angelo Espinosa of East L.A. to escort her to a public function in New York City? Are you loco?" 

"No, Angelo," Emma assured. "I just believe you might enjoy the cultural exposure. And it's not a request, Mr. Espinosa. Think of it as a field trip." 

Skin smiled. "Alright, if you want this hombre to go with you, then I won't object. When do we leave?" 

"You have ten minutes to pack." 

* * * * * 

Peter Parker sat arranging beakers and test tubes in one of Empire State University's many science laboratories. He frowned as he realized he had forgotten the Bunsen burner and walked into the storage closet in search of one. After a few minutes, he found the item and exited the closet, closing the door. Peter turned around and nearly jumped to the ceiling. 

"Did I surprise you?" Izzy asked. 

"Actually, yeah," he replied with disbelief. "No one's been able to do that in a long time. You'll have to give me your secret." Peter had to admit, Izzy had an uncanny way of sneaking up on people without getting noticed. She did it to everyone at the Bugle on a regular basis. Escaping his special abilities took skill; he was impressed. 

"I cannot reveal tricks of the trade," Izzy replied. "but I _can_ tell you about the weird looks I got from my chemistry teacher when I asked her to order these chemicals for me. What do you plan to do with this stuff?" 

"A guy's got to make his webbing," he explained. 

"Why don't you just make it at home? Why all the cloak and dagger?" she pressed. 

Peter tried to ignore her question, but by the stubborn look on her face he knew he would not get off that easy. Oh, well. Someone had to know, and Izzy had proven a faithful, if nosy, confidant. "MJ doesn't quite know that I put the mask back on yet." 

Izzy grimaced. "I see. So, she thinks that your new job is the only job you have right now?" 

"Yeah, and it's going to stay that way, right?" 

"Of course, Pete," Izzy assured him. "With all the stuff you know about me, I wouldn't even dream of blabbing anything. You can use me as an alibi anytime you want, just be sure to tell me if by some freak chance me and MJ cross paths." 

"Thanks," Peter said smiling. 

Izzy looked at him critically. "Mary Jane's no dummy, though. She's going to figure this out sooner or later. I think she'd take it better if you came clean than if she caught you sneaking in the window at two in the morning." 

Peter sighed. "I know. I'll tell her, but now isn't the right time." 

They let the conversation drop. Izzy sat beside Peter helping him mix up chemicals. She thought about how many things in her life had changed in the last three weeks. A month ago, if someone had told her she'd be on a first name basis with a superhero, she would have laughed out loud. If someone would have said she was going to meet two X-Men, she would have questioned their sanity. But, both those things had happened, all in a day for that matter. One occurrence that night had far surpassed the others, though. Her uncle, Henry Peter Gyrich, had come face to face with a mutant and not totally lost it. She couldn't remember much from that night, Iceman's strong arms, her uncle's angry and concerned voice, but what stuck out most in her mind was the feeling of understanding that prevailed. No shots had been fired, no tempers had flared. She wished she had that kind of stability in her life. Something had been nagging at her for over a week, but she couldn't figure out what. 

"Hey, Pete," she said breaking the silence. "I was wondering, did you ever get that funny feeling out of your head?" 

Peter looked over at her. "No," he answered. "Why do you ask?" 

"Cause I think it's spreading. I've been restless for the last week. Something isn't sitting right with the city or something. People are acting weird." 

"You sure it isn't just your uncle Henry?" 

Uncle Henry _had_ been acting weird lately. Most of the time he behaved in his usual manner, but every once in a while she caught him with a troubled expression on his face. He asked her what was going on in her life more, which was good, but he seemed to be battling with something on the inside. Late one night, she had went into the living room of his hotel room turned apartment and discovered him watching old footage of a group of mutants engaging Magneto at a nuclear base. It hurt Izzy to see her uncle troubled, but she figured he had to get through this on his own. 

"No, it's everyone else too. Well, not _everyone, _but more people than usual. Do you know what I'm talking about?" 

"More than you know," he answered. The city seemed nervous, he thought. The fact that Izzy had caught onto the change reassured him he wasn't going crazy. The air itself seemed to be waiting for something to happen. Maybe it was because the president was visiting next week. People always became anxious when something important happened, and nervous people sent off weird signals. That might explain the almost spidersense he had been feeling. 

"Oh," Izzy got up from the lab table and headed for the door, "while I'm thinking about it, Thursday there's a special assembly at my school. You might want to check it out. I'm kinda the head of the planning committee. Jameson might like some pictures. There are some important speakers coming. They'll be standing still, so even you can get in focus pictures of them!" 

Peter threw a wad of freshly made webbing at her as she ducked out of sight. "Oh, yeah!" he challenged. "Who would come to something _you_ planned?" 

* * * * * 

Emma Frost stepped out of the cab and waited for Angelo to join her by the gate. Skin whistled under his breath when he caught sight of the sign. 

"McCallister's School For Girls, huh. You should have told me. I would have dressed for the occasion." 

Ms. Frost smirked and rang the buzzer. After a few moments an elderly man's voice could be heard from the intercom. "Who goes there?" he screeched. 

The headmistress of the Massachusetts Academy dispelled the Wizard of Oz image that came to mind. "Emma Frost of Frost Enterprises," she answered. "I came for the special assembly tomorrow. I was told to ask for a Ms. . . ." 

"That would be me," a figure answered beside them. She stuck out her hand to the headmistress. "Isabella Perry, head of the planning committee for Futures Day. Pleased to meet ya, Ms. Frost." 

Emma and Angelo gaped at the young woman standing next to them. She wore a pair of old jeans with the left knee torn out and an oversized T-shirt with a big yellow smiley face plastered across it. "It looks like she borrowed a pair of jeans from Gambit and a shirt from Drake," Emma thought with amusement. Her frizzy hair while originally pulled back in a ponytail, now only held back about half of her tousled mop of curls. The other half either framed her face or stuck out at odd angles. 

"Sorry about my tardiness," she apologized, pulling at a small patch of sticky gook from her shirt sleeve. "I was helping a friend out with a science project." 

"De nada, chica," Angelo replied. "Just as long as you tell us how to get in this place without having to yell at Mr. Belltone in the office. 

Izzy laughed, "As long as you don't give away my secrets." She pulled out a thin metal bar and began to methodically pick the lock. After no more than three seconds, the gate swung open. She jiggled the bar around a few more times and led them inside. The gate locked behind them. 

"So," she asked the two, "what do you want to do first?" 

"Why don't you give us a tour of the school, Isabella?" Ms. Frost suggested. 

"Whatever floats your boat," Izzy replied, "and call me Izzy. Only my uncle calls me Isabella." She scratched her hand absently. "One word of advice, though, hombre," she said to Skin, "some of these girls haven't seen a guy in weeks, so watch it." 

"Are you among that number?" Angelo asked mischievously. 

"Of course not," Izzy replied indignantly. "That's why I learned to pick the lock on the front gate in the first case." She scratched her hand harder. "Damn Pete's chemicals," she muttered under her breath. "Come on, everybody," she ordered. "Let's go." 

For the next thirty minutes, Izzy tried to keep Emma and Angelo entertained with trivial facts about McCallister's School for Girls. When that tactic failed, she regressed to telling them embarrassing experiences from her year as a student there. After about fifteen minutes, she and Skin began comparing experiences, each trying to top the others' embarrassing moments. 

"You know, I've heard of the Massachusetts Academy," Izzy commented. "Someone told me that Dr. Henry McCoy sometimes gives guest lectures." 

"Si, chica," Skin affirmed her statement. Emma shot him a look to melt lead. "That is to say," he stammered. 

"You're so lucky!" Izzy exclaimed. "I only got him to come for Futures Day. You get to have him lecture about material from his own field instead of just mutant rights." 

"He's coming here to talk about mutant rights?" Emma interrupted, trying to keep the surprise out of her voice. 

"Yeah," Izzy answered. "Being the head planner has its advantages. Last semester a bunch of snobs invited a FoH prick to speak, so someone needed to show the right side of the coin. He got here an hour ago." 

Emma probbed the girl's mind and found she was telling the truth. So, Dr. McCoy would speak here tomorrow also. And the girl definitely had a great deal of respect for him. In fact, from what she could ascertain, the girl had met him before. Ms. Frost resisted the urge to probe her mind more deeply. 

"You know, I met him once," Izzy commented to them softly. "Only for a few minutes though." She sighed regretfully. 

Both Emma and Angelo sensed there was more to her story, but being nosy might cause Izzy to ask uncomfortable questions about them. They let the subject drop. After a few tense moments, Skin felt obligated to break the silence. 

"So, chica," he began, "what's on the agenda for tonight?" 

"Anything you want to do," Izzy answered. Angelo winked. She laughed. "Get your mind out of the gutter, boy!" Angelo didn't fail to notice the slight drawl in her voice. So, the girl was a hayseed. Either that, or one of those strange people who just liked to start rattling off in a different dialect every few sentences. They entered a small guest room. "Well, here's your room, Ms. Frost. I hope it suits you. Angelo, your room is next door, and Dr. McCoy's is two doors down." She turned to Skin. I'll take you, if Ms. Frost doesn't need anything. . . ?" 

"No, Isabella," Emma answered formally, "this is quite satisfactory. I believe I will go discuss matters with Dr. McCoy. Thank you." She and Angelo turned to leave. "Oh, and Angelo?" He turned around, groaning inwardly. He'd almost made it out. Emma smiled. "Have fun." 

Izzy quickly showed Angelo to his room. Angelo threw his gym bag on the floor and flung himself on the bed. Izzy pulled up a chair beside where he lay. "So," he asked. "What is there to do on this campus?" 

Izzy smiled wickedly, wonderful thoughts of mischief and mayhem dancing through her head. Angelo grinned also when he caught on to what she was thinking. "Are you up for a little covert public disturbance?" They both chuckled in anticipation. 

* * * * * 

Emma Frost tapped on Dr. McCoy's door gently. #Doctor McCoy, I know you are in there. Cease pretending to not hear me.# 

The door opened. "I would never dream of ignoring you, Emma," Beast said as he stepped aside to let her through. "To what do I owe the honor of your prescence?" 

Ms. Frost pulled out the chair by the desk and seated herself. "So, you came to speak at the McCallister's School for Girls? I thought the only guest lecturing you did was at the Massachusetts Academy." 

Dr. McCoy smiled at her jovially. "Young Isabella can even persuade the blue wonder to expand his horizons. Who better to talk about mutant rights? What makes you so curious, Emma?" 

"She said she had met you before," Emma explained. "I sensed some past between the two of you, but she protects her thoughts too well for me to intrude without it raising . . . uncomfortable questions. Plus, she and Angelo are roaming around campus as we speak." 

"I did meet her, on one occasion," Beast admitted. "It was a rather unforgettable experience. Fret not, Ms. Frost, she poses no threat to you or your students." 

"How did the two of you cross paths, anyway?" Emma prodded. "Did you bump into her at the twinkie rack at the Seven Eleven?" 

"She asked me to come speak at her school over the twinkie rack, but alas, our first encounter failed to achieve such ambiance." Beast sighed melodramatically before continuing. "Actually we met through a frigid friend you and I mutually possess," Beast said, smiling at Emma's shocked expression. "The young lady came across a bit of calamity, demanding the attention of a certain uncanny passerby. Upon emancipating the damsel in distress, the young hero promptly conveyed her to his humble abode, where I assessed her injuries and introduced myself." 

"So," Emma said thoughtfully, "she met you and Iceman?" 

"And Spiderman as well, if my memory serves me correctly," Beast added. "Although, from their friendly banter, I suspect she knew him before that night." 

"This girl gets more interesting by the minute," Ms. Frost commented. "Tell me more." 

"Surely your hectic schedule will not allow time for idle gossip," Beast argued, a grin coming to his lips. 

"We are stuck at a boarding school, Henry. What else is there to do?" 

"Point well taken, my lady. Let the story begin." 

* * * * * 

Angelo and Izzy crept through the darkened hallways of McCallister's dorms. Izzy led the way, a giant wrench slung over her shoulder. Angelo brought up the rear, connecting doorknobs with twine as he went. 

"You sure no one will notice this until morning?" Angelo asked doubtfully. 

"You bet," Izzy assured him. "The patrols have ended for the night. No one will catch us. I can't wait to see these snobs faces when they get stuck in their rooms in the morning." She giggled quietly. "Then when they go to shower. . ." Izzy broke into spasms of muffled laughter. 

"Those chicas will be freezing!" Angelo laughed along with her. "What did these girls ever do to you, Izzy?" 

"Don't get me started," Izzy scowled. "They are so self absorbed, they have to look down their noses to see Earth!" 

"I know the feeling, amiga," Angelo replied. "We better get back before Ms. Frost finds out I'm gone." 

Izzy shuddered. "Something tells me she's not a person you want to upset." 

Angelo smiled. "You have no idea." 

"You know," Angelo continued after a short pause. "If you had invited one of the X-Men to come in full spandex, those chicas might have actually listened to the Mutant Rights speech. Either that or drooled." 

They both chuckled softly and headed back toward Angelo's room, careful not to bump into anything, lest they alert someone to their prescence. 

"I actually tried to get Iceman to give a speech," Izzy commented. 

"Wait a second!" Angelo exclaimed. "You're telling me you have actually met one of the X-Men?" He kept up the pretense that he had no idea who the X-Men were, even though he had met most of them. He didn't want to give anything away, after all. 

"It's a long story," Izzy replied. "Remind me to tell you sometime. Let's just say I have connections with people who know how to get in touch with him. While I was talking to my informant one night, I told him about Future's Day and asked if he could ask Iceman if he wanted to give a speech. The guy told me Iceman was off on business. Whatever that means." 

"You have an informant?" Angelo asked. 

"Well, he's really just a friend, but informant sounds much more spiffy." 

He looked at her thoughtfully, but did not answer. He noticed how she had carefully avoided mentioning the man's name who she had called. She would keep his secret, at least the parts that could put someone in danger. He still didn't reveal more than a minimal amount of information on the X-Men. So far, he had not commented on anything that could not be gathered from news reports and a small amount of snooping. However, he did remind himself to tell his headmistress about Bobby's apparent disappearence in due course. 

Izzy scratched the top of her hand absently as they crept along. She'd washed it four times since leaving the lab, but if anything, it itched worse than earlier. She figured one of the snobs had snuck some itching powder in her lotion bottle again. 

When they got to the corner, Izzy peeked around the wall to make sure neither Ms. Frost or Dr. McCoy were out in the hallway. She breathed a sigh of relief when she discovered no one out and about. Suddenly something darkened the window across from her. 

"Um, Angelo?" Izzy stammered. "I think we should duck!" 

The figure raised a weapon and shattered the window, along with half the wall. He landed in the hallway followed by five other men, all heavily armored with identical weapons. Izzy and Angelo both sat up coughing and choking on the dust. Beast and Emma Frost charged out of their room to investigate the explosion. 

"How nice," one of the armored goons stated. He leveled his energy weapon at Beast's chest. "Now we don't have to search the entire school for you. Now be good and come quietly." 

"Fat chance of that!" Izzy slammed the large wrench into the man's skull. "He has a speech to give tomorrow." 

Beast sprang forward, knocking two of the men's heads together as he jumped over them. The White Queen punched the closest one to her in the jaw and kneed him in the groin. Two more to go. Beast grabbed another man as he tried to make his escape back out the destroyed window. He slammed him against the wall and lifted him a foot off the ground. 

"Who sent you?" he demanded. The man whimpered incomprehensibly, futilely trying to pry Beast's hand from his armor. 

The only remaining armored goon came out of hiding. "Your time has ended, mutie scum. We will hunt you all down, no matter what it takes!" The man clubbed Emma, who had been sneaking up behind him while trying to mask herself telepathically. He discharged his energy weapon, dislodging a section of wall the size of a minivan. The projectile ricocheted, missing Beast completely. Skin did not even notice it until it was almost upon him. He felt Izzy grab him frantically and his body stiffened. This was really going to hurt. 

* * * * *  
Emma groaned and grabbed her temple, trying to dull the throbbing deep in her brain. Cursing under her breath, she wished she had used her powers with less restraint on the armored man. She could not hear any more signs of the battle. All she heard was the sound of the approaching police sirens and scratching. She concentrated on the latter noise. Scratching, grunting, and heaving. 

Then she heard a voice, loud and frantic. "Angelo, Izzy, can you hear me?" 

At the mention of one of her students, her mind snapped into clarity. She opened her eyes and saw Beast digging through a pile of rubble that enveloped half the hallway. She went over to him as fast as her swimming head would allow. 

"Beast?" she asked, a note of panic coming to her voice, "Where are the kids?" 

"The rubble from the wall, it collided with the wall where they were standing," Beast explained anxiously. "Do you feel them?" 

Emma reached out with her mind and came up empty. No! She refused to believe it! She scanned again, frantically, tears stinging her eyes. For the second time in less than two minutes, Emma wished she had fried that armored bastard's brain beyond recognition. They could not be dead. She had lost one group of students already and she was not about to add to that number. 

She came back to her senses as Beast was lifting the last piece of debris from where the wall had collided with Angelo and Izzy. 

"They're gone!" Ms. Frost exclaimed with both worry and relief. "Where could they be? How did they get out of here?" 

"I haven't a clue," Beast answered. He was baffled, to tell the truth. He had seen the section of wall go toward the two and cried out a warning too late. For all intents and purposes, they should be lying beneath the rubble. He looked over at Emma. "I did not see them escape from the oncoming debris, so we must suspect some other force in their disappearance. 

Ms. Frost mulled Beast's theory over in her mind. "Well, if Angelo is able, he knows how to contact me, but assuming someone has abducted them, that might not be the case. We need to find them, as soon as possible." 

Beast nodded in agreement. "Indubitably, but we need help." He looked Emma over. "Do you think you can contact young Robert?" 

The White Queen smiled and massaged her temple gingerly. "I believe so." Ms. Frost set her mind to work, reaching out for Bobby Drake. Finding his mind was not that difficult a task for her, considering the fact she had inhabited it for a short time after the death of the Hellions. She was loath to admit it, but the fact was, she had enjoyed being there for a short period of time. He possessed both experience and a certain degree of innocence which was rare and slightly disconcerting. His was one of the most unique minds she had ever beheld. His good nature actually soothed her fractured psyche after she learned of her students' deaths. Most of the other minds she'd ever invaded would have used that display of weakness to strike. She searched, looking for that familar jovial aura. What she found when she got there though was not at all what she expected. Violent images flooded her mind. Pain, panic, and hatred hit her like a brick wall. She felt fear too, but not for him. He was afraid they would sense her and find her; he had to get her away! Emma's head snapped back as Bobby forced her to break contact. She felt a supporting hand on her shoulder. 

"What happened?" a bewildered Beast asked. 

"Bobby. . .something's happening to him. He pushed me away before I could get a chance to focus on his location," Emma mumbled. She was torn. Her student and an innocent girl had just mysteriously vanished. But Bobby was definitely in serious danger. She was drawn to help him as well. He had accepted her role as headmistress of the Massachusetts Academy with more good faith than anyone else. 

"We have to find the kids," Beast said. She could sense his inner turmoil. Bobby was his best friend, she knew. She knew he was only a step from dropping everything and searching for him without a second thought as to where to start. She knew this because the same was true of her. 

"You said so yourself that you couldn't get a fix on his location," he continued. "Locate the kids, quickly. Then we will find Bobby." 

* * * * * 

Angelo woke up to a blinding flash of light. "Madre de Dios," he mumbled groggily. "I didn't think the light to Heaven would hurt so much." 

"Who are you?" a feminine voice asked forcefully. 

Skin shook his head and tried desperately to think straight. He was not dead; he could tell that by the shrill, anxious sound of the woman's voice. The last thing he remembered was a huge chunk of wall barrelling toward him and Izzy. Where was he? Where was Izzy? 

"Answer me," the voice continued. "What are you two doing in my house in the middle of the night?" 

Angelo opened his eyes, squinting at the flashlight beam in his eyes. Two of us? So Izzy was here with him. Ignoring the woman with the flashlight he turned in search of her. She lay slightly underneath him, covered in a thin layer of dust and appeared to be out cold. 

"Is she alright?" the woman asked, a little more gently. She moved the flashlight out of Angelo's eyes and played the beam on Izzy's prone form. 

Just then, Angelo heard someone else coming down the steps from the upper floor of the house. The person moved quietly, like they were used to sneaking through dark alleys and quiet buildings. "Have you satisfied your curiousity yet, honey?" Skin could see his legs now, lean, but well muscled. Whenever that guy saw him, he would probably beat him senseless. "Unless it's Venom, we should be safe. . ." The man's voice trailed off as he caught sight of the two intruders. 

The woman, his wife Skin guessed, turned toward the man. "Is there something wrong, Peter?" she asked. 

"Skin?" the man asked. Skin bristled with anxiety. How does this person know me? Peter ran and flipped on the light switch. Izzy groaned, the first sound Skin had heard her make since they landed in this strange house. Skin took advantage of the brightness to get a better look at this man who knew him. He was of average height, and kind of scrawny looking, even with the wiry muscles. But, something about the way he moved and his voice made him seem familiar. 

"You know them, Tiger?" the woman asked. Angelo's heart nearly leaped out of his chest at the sight of the woman with the lights on. She was heartstoppingly beautiful, with long red hair and bright blue eyes. Had it not been for the seriousness of the situation, he might have made a snide comment. As it was, he turned back to Izzy, who had begun to stir. 

"Come on, chica," Angelo encouraged her, "snap out of it." He felt her shivering and rubbed her chilled arms to try and circulate some warmth through them. 

"Izzy?" Peter came up beside where Skin was still sitting. 

"Would someone explain to me what's going on?" the woman asked. 

"Si, y mi tambien," Skin agreed. 

Izzy moaned. "Angelo, meet Peter Parker and Mary Jane Watson-Parker. Mary Jane, this is Angelo." Izzy groaned. "Now someone tell me where this killer headache came from." 

Peter and Angelo helped Izzy sit up. "I courier to the Daily Bugle, Mary Jane. I'm Izzy." 

Mary Jane smiled slightly and sat down on the bottom step. "Pleased to finally meet you, Izzy." She looked at Peter critically. "Is Angelo a friend of your other persona?" 

"Yeah, from a few months back," Peter answered. Skin just sat on the floor looking confused. Izzy smiled at him weakly and patted him on the back. 

"If you don't mind, Tiger," Mary Jane interjected. "I'm going back to bed. I have a photo shoot at seven o'clock tomorrow morning." 

Peter went over to her and gave her a passionate kiss goodnight. "Don't take too long," she whispered into Peter's ear. He smiled as he watched her walk upstairs, but as soon as the bedroom door shut, he was all business. 

"What happened?" he asked Izzy. 

"Just who are you anyway, hombre?" Angelo asked. 

Peter sighed. He had given his secret identity to more people in the last three weeks than during his first year as the webslinger. He should just print an exclusive in the Daily Bugle and be done with it. Oh, well, he supposed he could trust Skin. 

"We met in East LA," he answered, smiling. "Of course, I was wearing the old red and blues back then." 

Skin's eyes widened as he realized just whose house he was in and he grinned. "Man, you have a wife like that and you were running around in LA with me and the gang?" It was Izzy's turn to look confused now. What was the connection between Spidey and Angelo? Had Spidey saved him once? She stared down at her hands, trying to figure out how Angelo and Spiderman could ever meet. 

"Oh, my god," she said. "Ohmygodohmygodohmygod!" 

"What?" Angelo and Peter both said alarmed. 

"My hands!" she exclaimed. A pale blue light radiated from them, tinging the immediate area with their glow. She held her hands up for Angelo to see. Their glow brightened and her eyes widened. 

"Just stay calm, amiga," Skin instructed her soothingly. "Concentrate on making them look like they normally do." Izzy closed her eyes, taking deep breaths. Slowly, the glow dimmed. "That's it," he assured her. See, all better now." 

Izzy opened her eyes and smiled with relief. "Well, at least it was a nice shade of blue," she mused, still a little shocked. 

"Are you alright, Izzy." Spiderman interrupted. 

She nodded. "Just a little cold." 

So, Izzy was a mutant. Did she know her new friend Skin was a member of Generation X, or did all this constitute the biggest coincidence Spiderman had ever witnessed. "Now tell me, what are you doing here?" 

"The school was attacked by these big guys in armor," Izzy answered. "One of them blew up a section of the wall and it was coming right at us, and. . ." She looked puzzled for a minute. "and . . ." 

"My guess is the chica teleported us here and saved our asses," Skin finished. He smiled at Izzy's shocked expression. 

After a moment, her expression changed into a small grin. She looked down at her hands. "Good timing, guys," she told them. 

"But McCallister's is over two miles from my house," Peter argued. 

Skin just laughed. "She must be good for a beginner then, eh? We have to get back to the school and make sure Dr. McCoy and Ms. Frost are alright." 

#Angelo? Can you hear me!# 

Skin winced as Ms. Frost's mental yell drilled into his brain. "Speak of the devil," he mumbled with a groan. #Si, I hear you. Could you keep it down?# 

Even though he had no telepathic talent to speak of, he still felt the relief in his headmistress's mental voice as she continued. #Where are you? Is Isabella with you?# 

#Yeah, we're okay. We crashed at a friend's house, literally. It seems that Izzy has more connections than I first thought. We'll meet you at the school, okay?# 

#You two come back here, McCoy and I must search for Drake. We believe he might have encountered some difficulties and have decided to discern his whereabouts.# 

#If Iceman's in trouble then let us help,# Skin argued. #You and Beast can't just go it alone.# 

#We can and we will,# Frost argued forcefully. #Go back to the school.# 

Skin opened his eyes to see Peter and Izzy looking at him worriedly. "That was Ms. Frost," he explained. 

"I'm getting the feeling there's a lot about you and Ms. Frost that I don't know," Izzy commented. "Care to explain?" 

Skin's lip quirked in the beginnings of a smile. I can tell by the look on her face; Izzy's starting to figure it all out. She's a pretty smart chica. "Maybe later, amiga. The story is way too long for now. Emma said to go back to the school," he explained with a scowl. "We have to stay there while they check out something with Iceman." 

"What about Iceman?" Izzy asked, her face clouded with concern. 

"Emma said he was in some kind of trouble," Skin answered. His eyes narrowed. "Don't tell me you know him too." This was almost too much. She probably knew more superheroes than he did. Oh, well. That's New York for you, the superhero capital of the world. 

"We have to help," Izzy argued. 

"I agree, chica. You with us, Spidey?" Skin asked. 

"You really should do what Ms. Frost tells you," Peter argued. "It's for your own good." 

Izzy frowned. "Et tu, Pete? If you're not with us, you're against us." She grabbed Angelo's hand and disappeared with a giggle. 

Peter Parker watched them leave with a frown. Part of him wished he could have went with them, but MJ would definitely find out. He smiled ruefully. Of course the Spidertracer he had snuck onto Izzy's shirt let him keep an eye on them. With a chuckle, he headed upstairs. 

* * * * * 

Emma opened her eyes and allowed herself a small smile of relief. The kids were safe, though how they escaped the attack at the school remained a mystery. She felt bad about forbidding Angelo to help with the search for Bobby, but she could not put him, or Izzy for that matter, at risk. True, they might need the extra manpower, but. . . she would just have to cross that bridge when she got to it. 

"They're alright," she informed Dr. McCoy. "We should get going." She did not need to inform Beast of the necessity for expediency. He was just as anxious as she was about Bobby. 

Before they had the time to leave the hallway, a glowing sphere appeared in the air in front of them. It quickly expanded until it stood a few inches taller than Emma and became translucent. She spied two figures huddled in the middle of the ball, clinging to each other tightly. Suddenly the sphere retracted upon itself, being pulled back into Izzy's body. Skin grabbed her around the waist as she slumped over. 

"Maybe that wasn't the best idea," she said weakly, trying to regain her balance. 

Skin pulled her gently to her feet. "You okay, Izzy?" he asked with concern. 

Izzy lifted her head and regarded him seriously for a few moments before giving him a weak grin. "Man, what a rush," she stated. 

She straightened slowly and shook her head. "I'll be alright." She looked at the shocked faces of McCoy and the headmistress. "If you thought you could leave us behind, you were wrong!" 

Beast opened his mouth to say something, anything in order to get an explanation out of the two teenagers. He stopped short, however. There was no time for stories; they had an X-Man to find. 

* * * * * 

"Gotta stay focused. Gotta stay. . . frozen!" Allison Stills watched with morbid fascination as the X-Man mumbled to himself. Scientists watched their computer screens as the measurements fluctuated. They wanted the data, but Allison only relished the multitude of suffering she had watched the man endure the last few days. First, they had drugged him so his reflexes would slow enough to put on an inhibitor collar. Unfortunately, he had proven resistant, making it necessary to put him in the tank. Personally, Allison had secretly hoped he would prove difficult to break. She had not been disappointed. 

Once in the tank, they had heated the interior to 120 degrees Fahrenheit, expecting him to melt like a popscicle. But he hadn't. The scientists had been astounded. They explained to her about him pulling moisture from the air to keep his ice form and said that he somehow always cooled the air after they heated it. While she had found all of this mildly interesting, it did nothing to achieve her goal. She wanted to know the identity of th man behind the face of ice. She knew she should have just gotten her men to take a picture, but she also had needed someone to use as a test subject for her tank. And, let's face it, this way was more fun. 

Next, they had went the opposite route and dropped the temperature to negative twenty. Iceman had surprised the scientists once again by actually making himself larger by gathering moisture from the air. This had started an entire new subject of conversation and plans for other experiments, but this distracted from her goal. She wanted to break him. Then the scientists could do whatever they wanted. If she could prove that her methods producted better results than that prick Gyrich's warped form of justice, she might just get that corner office. Provided, of course that the other parts of her scheme proceded as expected. 

What they were doing now delighted her the most. The tank had been heated once again to 100 degrees and made arid. All moisture had been stripped away. The assembled group had been observing him for the last 24 hours. Now his once sheen icy body more closely resembled someone completely covered by frost. 

Iceman looked up at Ms. Stills, just noticing that she was standing there, staring at him. "Do you like what you see?" he asked, giving her a cold smile. 

"Very much," she answered. "You feeling well, honey? Are you feeling a little warm?" 

"Nah," he answered. "I've been wanting to go to a sauna for ages." 

"Funny how convincing he is, even though he probably doesn't have the strength to stand," she mused as she walked back toward the computer consoles. Last week, she had believed all mutants were sadistic, yet cowardly creatures. Now, however, she knew that they were stupid as well. 

She turned away from the tank and it's lone occupant. "How's he doing?" she asked the nearest scientist. 

"As far as I can tell, he should be giving way fairly soon, either voluntarily or by loss of consciousness," the man replied. "While the specimen's temperature still remains far below normal, it has risen substantially since first subjecting him to the tank's adverse conditions. I estimate that if he were in his flesh form, his temperature would be approximately 104 degrees Fahrenheit. His bodily fluids have also been slowly depleting themselves," the man smiled thinly. "He should be succumbing any time now." 

"Good," she said with a chuckle. 

She turned back to the tank. Iceman lay slumped against the far side of the glass tube, his eyes closed. It wouldn't be much longer now. She wondered what his face looked like under that thin veil of ice. The ice shaped his face into a mask of innocence. She could almost imagine the boyish good looks. With his back to the glass and his eyes closed he looked more like a boy than a man. She shook her head, dispelling the thought. Yes, he did appear several years younger than herself, but it made no difference. Under that veneer, he was a hideous, ruthless creature that needed to be gotten rid of. The devil had many cunning facades. 

Iceman sat with his back against the glass concentrating. He had remained in his ice form for nearly a week now, despite his body's protests. He had used the moisture in the air to keep from dehydrating, until they had made the tube arid yesterday. At least, he thought they did that yesterday. Aerosol drugs kept his mind effectively muddled. Bobby had no idea how long he had been imprisoned here. He wished for the millionth time that he could freeze the damn gas and use it for an escape. 

Even in his drugged state, he knew he was in trouble. He felt his body resisting his ice form. There just wasn't enough moisture for him to do anything, but something had to happen soon or it would be too late. He calmly searched for precious particles of much needed water. Just beyond the pane of glass, he felt the multitude of moisture, beckoning him like a mirage. He could also see the drastic temperature difference and longed for the cool air. Both had been taunting him for what seemed like an eternity. All he needed to do was break through. He doubted he had the strength, though. 

Earlier, he had pushed Emma's probing thoughts away. No need to drag her into this. He couldn't bear the thought of seeing her or anyone else imprisoned in a tank beside him. He wondered idly what his parents were doing right now. Had they contacted the X-Men when they found out he was missing? Were the X-Men searching for him, even now? For some reason, he doubted the X-Men even cared. It knew it had probably been at least a week, after all. With Wolverine's keen senses at the scene and Gambit's skill at breaking and entering, the fortress should have been compromised days ago. But in all this time, the only telepathic communication he had received had been from Emma. He guessed they finally decided to let their second string X-Man handle his own problems. 

A pounding on the glass broke his concentration. He knew the woman was taunting him once again. He had come to hate that gloating face over the past few days. "What are you thinking, Popscicle?" she asked. Her voice held none of the jovial taunting that most did when they called him by that name. "Do you seriously believe you still have a chance to escape? I'm disappointed. I thought the last try broke you of that habit." 

He remembered that moment. Yesterday, at least he thought it was yesterday, he had discovered the vent which sucked all the moisture from his tank. Reaching with his power, he had captured the tiny particles in hope of shattering the glass surrounding him. The caper did not go as planned. As soon as he pulled the moisture back through the vent, an electric charge ran through his body. An eternity later, when the charge ceased, Bobby had fallen to the ground in agony. 

"Oh, did I forget to tell you?" the woman had asked with mock sincerity. "Tampering with the tank produces shocking results." The crazy woman had laughed after that remark, a morbid, cold giggle that made Iceman shudder. "We like to keep our lab rats in line." She had left the room after that, still laughing. 

"Why would I care what a bitch like you thought?" Iceman growled through clinched teeth. 

"Oh, such language! I'm hurt!" Allison replied. She'd finally gotten him angry. 

He could feel his eyelids becoming heavy, and struggled to keep himself awake. He suddenly felt glad he had asked Logan about how he stayed awake for so long at a time if he needed. It was paying off now. Now if only he had a set of claws. Oh, well. No use wishing for things you didn't have. But he did have one advantage with the woman. 

"I'm sorry, ma'am; I really am. It's just. . . . well, Ally, I'm beginning to think you don't like my company." he replied with mock sadness. 

Stills scowled at this and looked at her scientists accusingly. Somehow this _boy_ had managed to find out her name. He'd used it to taunt her over the last couple of days, chatting with her between his bouts with her machine's climate controls like they were old friend. And he called her Ally. She'd hated that particular nickname since she was a toddler. It upset her to no end, and that bastard knew it. Watching him struggle to remain conscious only began to whet her apetite for the things to come once she found out who was hiding behind all that ice. 

Ms. Stills pounded on the glass once again, bringing Iceman back to reality. "Stay awake, Frosty. Stay awake!" The woman smiled and strode around the glass chamber. He was beginning to like this man; he had spirit. Funny, none of the classified files she had received ever mentioned it. It almost made her want to toy with him even longer. But, she was on a timetable. She decided it was time to take away his last thread of hope. "I just thought you would like to know," she commented. "That your friends are next." 

Iceman opened his eyes and stared at her intently. "What?" he asked, scarcely believing he'd heard him correctly. 

"They'll all be joining you soon," she said with glee. "I have their tanks set up already, specifically designed for their mutagenic signatures." She laughed. "We'll get information on them all. I just thought I would leave you with that thought." The evil woman practically skipped out of the room. 

If she had waited to see Iceman's expression, she would not have witnessed the breaking of his will, as she expected. Allison Stills had just made a fatal mistake. She had underestimated her opponent. If only his life came into jeopardy, he might have surrendered, in time. But at the thought of his friends, his family, being subjected to the same, drove him to action. It would not happen; he wouldn't let it. 

Allison's face suddenly appeared on a screen on the opposite wall. "Thought I would leave you alone? Not a chance. I want to see you suffer. I want to see that wonderful spirit of yours drain from your body, and savour every moment of it." She looked at the scientists' cubicle. "Go to phase four," she ordered. 

The tank started heating up even more and he suddenly became dizzy. She was sucking all the air out of the tank. In less than two minutes, he would be unconscious and his friends would be betrayed. He concentrated desperately on the moisture outside his prison, following its flow. He couldn't find any pathway, not even a small stream came into the tank. Dejected, he slammed his fist into the glass, hoping to crack it. When he lifted his hand, he noticed a smudge on the glass. Water. 

He thought of his friends, locked in these tanks. Storm would go ballistic just being inside the closed cylinder. They would definitely exploit her claustrophobia to their advantage. Logan would sooner die than give in to these goons. A look of pure determination came across his face. So would he. Iceman snapped his head up and he met Stills' gaze. Her laughter died in her throat. The look in her prisioner's eyes made her blood run cold. He broke the stare a split second later and closed his eyes. 

Iceman reached inside his own body, feeling for the moisture trapped there. He just needed enough to break the glass. His head began to spin as the air got thinner, but still he concentrated, pulling the water from his cells, essentially dehydrating his own body. He fell to his knees, but still he did not open his eyes. He knew the scientists were chatting excitedly about his power fluctuations, but he paid them no heed. Distraction would be fatal. He heard himself gasp involuntarily as the last of the air was sucked from the tank, but by then he wasn't paying attention to the outside world anymore. He focused past the thundering of blood in his ears, the aching in his body, and the confusion of his mind, on cold, on ice, on freedom. His power surged through him as he built the moisture on the glass. 

It was all over in less than a second. He frosted the glass, made it brittle, and shattered it in a split second. That fact was lost on Iceman though as his lungs involuntarily gulped oxygen in ragged gasps. He had not even noticed that his actions had happened so quickly that the electrical charge never ensued. All he was concentrating on was escape. And now he had all the moisture he needed. 

* * * * * 

At one-thirty in the morning, the riverfront was lifeless except for a few vagrants, some fishermen pulling a late night on their boats, and two mutants who were the complete opposite of one another. Jubilee loved traveling with Wolverine. They could go anywhere, no matter how unsavory the conditions. She never felt in danger when she was with Wolvie. She could investigate the waterfront at one-thirty and not fear muggings or kidnappers. Life was so good. 

Suddenly, Wolverine stiffened beside her and cocked his head to one side. She waited patiently, knowing that asking him what he heard would only distract him from listening. She looked around cautiously to try and see the disturbance. After a few moments, though, her impatience got the best of her. 

"Whatcha hear, Wolvie," she whispered. 

"Don't know, darlin'," he answered. "It's real faint, and there ain't no scent." 

"I don't see anything," Jubilee offered. "Maybe it's just a party?" 

"Nah, ain't no party," he told her, "and it's getting louder." 

Jubilee started to answer, but she held her reply when the ground started to shake. She held out her arms to steady herself. Beside her, Wolverine adopted a fighting stance even though his claws stayed underneath his knuckles. She watched in amazement as an abandoned building two blocks away was transformed into a four hundred foot pillar of sparkling ice. 

Jubilee's eyes widened and her jaw dropped. "Wolvie?" she looked over at her companion, who appeared almost as surprised as she. 

"Come on, darlin'," he ordered. "Let's see what kind of trouble Snowball's gotten into this time." 

* * * * * 

"Bobby!" Jean shot up in her bed, her hands going to her chest in fear that her pounding heart would leap from her ribcage. She took several deep breaths and wiped the damp tears from her face. Her hand brushed against the bed where Scott normally lay beside her. Unfortunately, he and several others had left the mansion hours earlier to investigate the latest Friends of Humanity "gathering." A minute later, she had focused herself and quelled her rampant terror. 

"Dear, God, Bobby," she whispered to herself. "What have you gotten yourself into?" She quickly slipped on a pair of sandals and headed for the mansion. She could have easily flown in a telekinetic bubble, but her anxiety required physical exertion. 

Jean opened the door and headed through the main foyer, toward the MedLab and the Cerebro unit Moira MacTaggert had loaned the X-Men. She was so preoccupied that, had it not been for some inhuman agility, she would have run straight into Gambit. 

"What you doin' up, chere?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow. 

"I could ask the same of you, Remy," she countered. She knew Gambit had went to sleep earlier this evening. His recent bout with a bad case of the flu had kept him from helping with the mission. 

Suddenly Jean sensed another stab of agonizing emotion from Bobby's mind. She cried out involutarily as her knees buckled. Faster than she imagined possible, Gambit was at her side, saving her from a fall to the hardwood floor. He gently supported her around the waist as she regained her equilibrium. 

"What's wrong?" he asked when he let go of her. 

"It's Bobby," she said, opening her eyes and regarding him. "He's in some kind of danger. She watched as Gambit's face paled ever so slightly, even though his face remained expressionless. She did not fail to notice the haunted look that came to his eyes. 

"Is there some way Gambit could have sensed Bobby's outcry?" Jean thought. She pushed the thought aside. Remy may be secretive, but she doubted he could hide that level of ability from some of the most powerful telepaths in the world. However, he had paled. 

"We have to find some way to help him. Are you sure you're feeling up to it?" 

"Gambit be fine," he answered with a smile. "He just can' stomach de gumbalaya for a while, non? I been wantin' t' go ta de Big Apple for weeks." 

Jean was nearly out the door before she realized something in Gambit's glib statement. She looked at him strangely for a moment. How had Remy known Bobby's cry came from New York City? She had always secretly suspected Gambit kept some of the finer nuances of his mutant ability under wraps, thief's tricks of the trade and all. Besides being one of the world's strongest telepaths, she was also a licensed psychiatrist and not the naive, Alice she knew some of the other teammates sometimes mistook her for. Now, however, she wondered, just briefly, how deep the rabbit hole really went. 

* * * * * 

Part Four 

Jubilee ran to catch up with Logan. She could see his shoulders tense as he jogged through the alleys. Jubilee couldn't help but worry too. The building had turned to ice in less than a second. She never knew Bobby could do that. It was kind of spooky. 

Within three minutes, the two had made their way through the side streets to the ice building. The building was not only covered with ice, the ice sculpted it. Each individual window, doorway, and building fixture was molded with ice. If it could stay frozen, people could live in it. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen. 

"Frosty needs to forget the superhero gig and take up art," Jubilee mused quietly to herself. Wolverine grunted in reply. "You don't suppose he just got bored, do you?" she asked hopefully. 

Wolverine shook his head. "It don't smell like fun here, Jubes." He smelled many things. Disinfectant, scientists, and metal, but overshadowing all those scents was desperation. Iceman's desperation. He growled low in his throat as memories came to the surface. "Something bad happened here," Wolverine commented. 

Jubilee knew that look when she saw it on Wolverine's face. She did not like it in the least. Something had struck a chord in Logan's distorted memories, which only meant trouble for Iceman. She suddenly felt more anxious than ever to get into that building and find her friend. 

"Oh my stars and garters!" a familiar voice commented behind him. 

Wolverine spun around to see Beast and Emma Frost standing behind him, along with Skin and another girl he had never seen before. There was a smell on her he could not quite place, though. It made him edgy. So did the fact that he had not heard or smelled their approach, even though they stood downwind of he and Jubilee. 

"What are you doing here?" Jubilee directed toward Ms. Frost. 

"Looking for Drake," Emma answered bluntly. "What else?" 

Wolverine could smell the anxiety on Frost and saw the tired look in her eyes, as well as the growing bruise on her temple. The others weren't much better. He could smell healing flesh on Beast. Angelo did not look that worse for wear, but the strange girl was leaning heavily on him for support. She appeared anxious as well. 

"What happened to you?" he asked them, "and where did you pick up the kid?" 

"We had a run in with some armored rejects," Skin answered. 

"Actually, _I_ picked _them_ up," the girl retorted. Her voice sounded strained, but contained no fear. "We saw the building and they hitched a ride." 

"Our young friend has recently acquired a rather formidable teleportation ability," Beast explained. "Though I deplore her overuse of it so soon after its discovery." 

"Iceman would do the same for me," she replied defensively, still sounding a little shaky. So, the girl knew Popscicle, Wolverine mused. "Besides, I'll be fine in a minute," she assured Hank. 

"You have expended a great deal of energy in the last few minutes, Isabella," Izzy cringed at the use of her real name. "A minute will not suffice. You will remain out here while we search the area." 

Izzy glared at Ms. Frost, looking hurt because of being shoved to the side. "I'll watch her back, Ms. Frost," Skin put in. "We can take up the rear. I'm sure if the chica sees trouble, she can 'port herself to safety." 

Wolverine cut the two off before they could argue. "Enough talkin'," he scowled. "We're not doin' any good out here bellyachin'. Let's go." 

The six headed cautiously into the building, Wolverine and Emma in the lead, Jubilee, Skin, and Izzy following closely behind, and Beast taking up the rear. Beast noted with a degree of interest that Izzy was indeed correct about her condition. She no longer depended on Skin's supporting shoulder to keep upright. Her mutation kept showing new and unexpected dimensions. With control, he wondered what she could do. He took his gaze off the mysterious girl and took in his surroundings. Every surface was wrapped in ice, clear and transparent, but encompassing everything. Beast had known Bobby since they were teenagers. At times, the man of ice had proven himself stronger than others thought him, but he had never done anything to this scale. Even when he froze the Empire State Building, it hadn't been to this extreme. This was thorough, meticulous, and tragically beautiful. 

"I didn't know Frosty had it in him," Jubilee commented as she looked around in awe. 

"I don't think Snowball knew it either, darlin'," Wolverine answered her. He stopped, sniffing the air. "We've got people ahead," he called and started down a flight of stairs at a slow run. 

The stair wound down farther than anyone, except maybe Wolverine suspected. Jubilee caught up with Skin and Izzy on the way down. "So," she asked Izzy. "How'd you and Frost meet up?" 

"She came to speak at my school," Izzy answered. "If I had any idea she and Dr. McCoy would bring so much trouble, I would have invited them a year ago." 

Angelo laughed. "You think that was bad," he said. "come to the Academy for a couple of days." 

"Of course, now you will have to avoid rich snobs other than M," Jubilee joked. "But you would be great at scaring them and booby trapping their rooms. . . " 

Their conversation was cut short when they reached the bottom of the stairs. They all stood in stunned silence as they surveyed the room. Along the sides of the walls, computer consoles and instrument readouts were frozen in time. A large cluster of computers sat near the other side of the room. Seven scientists looked at the intruders with horror. Some were standing, some sitting in chairs or leaning against desks, but none of them could move. They were encased to their necks in ice. Near the center of the room stood a single cylindrical tube. The glass encased was shattered, pieces scattered in every direction. On the wall across from the tube, a television shot sparks around a spire of ice that had been thrown through the screen. 

"Don't breathe too deep, folks," he advised them. "There's some kind of aerosol sedative in the air." Wolverine growled low in his throat. These scum had been experimenting on Iceman. Only one thing stopped the Canadian from gutting every last one of the scientists in the building. Iceman could have killed them, but he didn't. Only a few more inches and he could have suffocated them, or he could have frozen all the blood in their bodies. There were several ways Iceman could have done it, but he hadn't. After they had put him through only God knew what, Bobby had restrained himself, and Wolverine respected him for it, even if it wasn't his style. The shattered television bothered him, though. 

Beast walked up beside him. "Any sign of our frigid friend?" he asked. 

"Nothin'," Logan answered. "He was here, but I'm sure ya could tell that. We should check out the other rooms down here. It's hard to catch his scent when he's in ice form." He looked at the assembled group. "Beast you and me can stay and check out this room. Everyone else, search the other rooms." He waited for Emma's words of protest, but they never came. She gathered the others together and quickly left for the other rooms. 

#I will alert you if we find anything,# she told Wolverine. 

#Thanks fer not complainin',# he answered. 

#Complaining would not help the situation,# she replied. 

He turned back to Beast, who was now staring intently at the computer readouts. Wolverine walked around a trembling scientist and stood beside him. "What ya find there, McCoy?" he asked. 

"These men's experimentation data," he answered through clinched teeth, "and the intended procedures scheduled for after they obtained his identity. Iceman was kind enough to leave one computer terminal in working order." 

Wolverine put a hand on Beast's shoulder, knowing how he felt. "So, his secret's still safe?" he asked just loud enough for Hank to hear. 

"Yes," Beast answered. 

"How long had he been here?" Wolverine asked. 

"A week," Beast scowled. "I don't understand how he could have been here so long without anyone knowing!" 

"These kind of scumbags have a way of planning everything out," Wolverine replied with a growl. "I'm sure they covered their tracks well." 

Hank took a deep breath and assumed his usual professional manner. "It appears from these records that this operation was more than mere coincidence. They seem to have a small degree of information about many of the X-Men in this database." He looked at Wolverine. "We seem to have stumbled on a conspiracy." 

"Any clue to where Iceman might be?" 

"Alas, no. His escape surprised these men as much as the four hundred foot ice pillar did us. Shall we join our comrades in the next room or thaw out these mad scientists?" 

"Leave them," Wolverine ordered coldly. Beast, for once, did not argue for more humane treatment. "Let's take the database and get the others." 

Beast tore the motherboard and main memory circuits from the computer he was working on and he and Logan headed for the door. Just before they left the room Wolverine turned and looked back toward the shattered television. 

"What is it, my friend?" Beast asked. 

"I just don't get it," Logan commented. "The kid left everyone alive and all the equipment frozen, but intact, except for that screen. And he didn't just shatter it cleanly; he threw a spike through it. What could piss Bobby off that much?" 

Beast looked and the television, his eyes widening as if noticing its possible significance only now. Iceman rarely ever lashed out with such raw violence. "Indeed," he mused, a concerned look spreading across his face. "We should rendezvous with the others." 

* * * * * 

A few blocks away, an eloquently dressed woman stood on the balcony of her penthouse apartment. Her dress, sheer and formfitting, looked like something taken directly from the fashion runway. The furious tantrum she was displaying on the balcony took away from that fact however. She jumped up and down in her heels and pounded her fist against the railing. Her jaw was clenched and her eyes looked over the New York skyline with hatred. Allison Stills was not a happy woman tonight. 

"Those incompetant fools," she howled into the night air. "I leave for one banquet and all hell breaks loose! He was practically broken. We should have been able to get anything we wanted from him." She started pacing back and forth across the abandoned balcony. "And the moron manages to escape. Him, escape. Not only did he get out, he destroyed my building!" 

Her pacing intensified and her arms started to swing at her sides. She tugged at her upswept hair and shrieked in utter frustration. "Stupid mutie freaks. Always getting in the way! Everything I try, they ruin. I could have made him suffer! Suffer like my parents . . ." She resolutely held back the tears that threatened to fall. 

"My father trusted you!" she yelled at thin air. "Let you stay at our house even though you were obviously different. Gave you clothes, food, even a job when no one else in town would hire you!" Her heels clicked dangerously on the concrete as she practically ran around the balcony. Her tears remainded unshed, however. The sadness had left her long ago. Hatred burned in place of that grief. 

"HE LOVED YOU!!" she screamed. She gripped the balcony rail and shook it forcefully. 

"I loved you." She shuddered and took a deep breath to calm herself. "The day you killed my father was the day you signed a death warrant for you, and every other mutant abomination." 

Stills stopped pacing and leaned heavily on the balcony's railing. A tall man in a dark suit walked out onto the balcony, standing behind his boss. "Ms. Stills, ma'am, the operatives just radioed in their report." 

"And?" 

"The mission was. . . unsuccessful, ma'am," the man answered reluctantly. "The specimens proved more resourceful than we anticipated." Stills glared at him dangerously. "It was not a complete loss however. Stevens said this would be of great interest to you, ma'am." He handed her a tiny videorecorder. 

"This is from the previous mission?" she asked, a smile slowly creeping to her face. 

"Yes, Ms. Stills. One of the guards placed the videorecorder near the breach in the main wall. He thought it might come in handy." 

"Excellent. Give that man a raise," she proclaimed. "Now leave me alone." She excused him with the wave of her hand. 

As soon as he left the balcony, she turned on the small videorecorder and begin watching the replay of the mission. These guys were good, she had to admit. The way the big blue guy tore through her troopers, it fascinated her. She wondered how long he would last in the tank. Even the woman held up well, despite the fact she did not possess any mutant powers she could see. Maybe this Emma Frost was more than she appeared. Allison shook her head. Nah, she just has enough money to hire a good self defense instructor. 

Stills leaned against the railing and watched on in interest. Four of her five men were now down, but the other had just knocked out that bitch, Frost and fired at the beast. A piece of debris flew over the blue guy's head and crashed into some students. Funny, no one had informed her of fatalities during the conflict. 

She fast-forwarded the video after her troops retreated, noting the main happenings. The beast was digging through the debris. How noble of him. The snob was panicking and spacing out just like all women from her social class. Stills was about to turn it off when a blue sphere filled the entire screen. She watched in amazement as the two students she thought dead appeared in the middle of the room. She paused the playback to get a closer look. 

"Well, well, well," she mused with a wry smile. "The plot thickens." With a renewed resolve and more even temperment, she pulled a cell phone out of her small purse. This was going to be good, she thought with a smile. 

* * * * * 

Halfway down the hallway, they were met by Jubilee. "I was just coming to get you," she said, panting for breath. "Come quick." 

"Why didn't Emma contact us telepathically?" Beast asked with concern. 

"Psi-shielding," Jubilee explained. "It makes what Snowball did even freakier." 

The three broke into a run, careful not to slip on the floors. When they got to the room, what they saw made their blood run cold. The room was a picture of carnage. Twenty or more of the cylindrical tubes were frozen, bent, and smashed on one side of the room. Wolverine picked up a scrap of metal. 

"Storm," it read. Wolverine jerked his head up and scanned the debris. Under each broken cylinder was a metal plate with a name. Cyclops, Phoenix, Angel, Gambit, Rogue, Jubilee, Chamber. . . there were remainants of enough tubes to contain all the X-Men and Generation X as well. This kept getting worse and worse. What had they stumbled onto?  
On the other side of the room was, of all things, an igloo. Wolverine peered at it closely. Suddenly Emma crawled out of the opening carrying a small child. Izzy and Skin soon followed, both also leading out children. The children huddled against Izzy and Skin frightfully, hiding behind their legs. 

"It's alright," Izzy assured the boy behind her. "We're the good guys." 

"Are you with the icy man?" the oldest child, a girl, asked. 

"You seen him, darlin'?" Wolverine asked. 

"Y, yeah," she stammered, "through the igloo's roof. He flew out of here real fast. He went crooked, like he was dizzy or something." 

Wolverine nodded his head. "Yeah, I can smell him now," he told her. "Thanks, kid." 

Emma handed the child she held to Angelo. "You and Izzy take the children outside so the authorities will find them. I assume you know the way out?" 

"Si, Frost," Skin answered. "Care to come, Jubecita?" 

Jubilee looked around at the assembled adults. She could feel Emma urging her to leave with Skin and Izzy. For a moment she considered staying just to spite her headmistress. However, she had a feeling what they were going to talk about and she decided that she preferred to cling to the belief that Bobby had come through this unscathed for a few more minutes. 

"Alright," she followed them outside. 

"We haven't got much time, Emma," Beast told her. "If you're going to scan the room to find out what happened, then do it." 

Emma nodded. She sat down on the floor and began concentrating on the psychic echoes in the room. She was not disappointed. She began to get a mental image of the scene through the girl's eyes. She was huddled in the igloo that had mysteriously formed a few moments ago. Suddenly, a man burst into the room on a thin sheet of ice. He stumbled and fell to the frozen floor. Lifting his head slowly, he noticed the other tubes, and screamed with rage and fear. Without even raising his hands, the miniature prisons shattered and crumbled to the ground. Emma was slightly taken back by the power and control of his attack. Then the man raced for the ceiling high above. She saw his slide waver as he made his way for the small skylight. She let go of Wolverine and Beast's minds, who had been watching along with her. 

Without a word, Emma walked out of the psi-shielded room and carefully reached out for Iceman's mind. She hit his thoughts of panic and confusion head on. She felt herself reel back, but resolved not to let him push her away again. She desperately tried to pinpoint his location. After a few moments, she realized that he didn't even know where he was. His stress level and drugged state compounded to produce utter chaos in his mind. He was running blindly, seeking escape from his captors. 

#Calm down, Drake. It's Emma.# 

She felt his mind clear slightly. #Emma?# he called softly. He sounded like a lost child. 

#Yes, Drake. Where are you?# 

Again, she was hit by his confusion and panic. #Don't know. . . Big buildings. . .billboards. . . .# She caught an image, but felt his consciousness start to falter. He'd managed to give her a clue, though. 

#Don't pass out on me, Drake! We are coming to find you.# 

She opened her eyes. "I found him!" she proclaimed. Both of the men relaxed visibly. "We have to hurry though, while I still have a lock on him." 

They raced out of the building and down to where Izzy, Skin, and Jubilee stood. The other children were gone, she noticed. The three looked at them expectantly. Their eyes asked the question all of them were afraid to voice: Was Iceman okay? 

"I've located him," Emma informed them. "Unfortunately, he is over Times Square, and heading farther away from us." 

"But why would he do that if you talked to him?" Jubilee asked in confusion. 

"He's not thinkin' straight, Jubes," Wolverine answered. Jubilee nodded in understanding. She knew that people could act strangely when they were hurt or confused. Sure, Bobby had been hurt before, but she did not like to think of him so incapacitated. Not since the power surge and Sabretooth's escape. 

Emma cried out involuntarily as she felt Iceman struggle to remain conscious. "I'm losing him. We have to get going." 

"No one's going anywhere," a voice spoke over a bullhorn. Everyone turned to see Henry Peter Gyrich standing a hundred feet from the frozen building with a small military strike force. "You are all under arrest by the authority of the United States Government." 

"I'll show ya authority, bub," Wolverine replied, unsheathing his foot long claws. 

"There's no way we can all make it to Times Square in under ten minutes," Izzy appeared behind the headmistress, putting Emma's body between her and Gyrich. "Can you still feel him?" she asked. 

"Yes," Emma answered. "Weakly. He's going fast." 

"Showing your true colors, I see," Gyrich yelled. "Killing innocent bystanders is standard procedure for you, isn't it? But mark my words, this will be the last government facility you destroy, mutants!" 

"A government facility?" Beast answered with confusion and more than a little anger. "Do you run this laboratory?" 

"Don't play stupid with me, McCoy," Gyrich jeered. "These are office buildings for government scientists." 

"Oh, please," Jubilee retorted sarcastically. "You're joking, right?" 

Both Ms. Frost and Beast noticed his armored guards at the same time. They were the same who had attacked McCallister's a few hours ago. If Gyrich was telling the truth, then. . . 

"Gyrich you must listen to us," Emma interrupted him. 

"I won't listen to anything you have to say," he shot back defiantly. 

Wolverine growled as a new figure came out of the shadows behind Gyrich. "Actually, he had no clue about what was going on in this building." she answered. "Just that his niece had started associating with some unsavory types." The woman smiled and brought a flashlight down on his head before he could react. "You should have listened to the yuppie, Gyrich." Izzy held back her cry of outrage. She didn't think Stills had noticed her yet. 

Wolverine lunged for the woman, claws extended. His flight was suddenly stopped in midair, however by an impact with an invisible wall. The woman pressed a button and Logan was enveloped in a green globe. Wolverine fought the elastic material with hand and claw to little effect. "A nice effect of the gas in the tank is the dulling of the senses, especially smell." 

Suddenly the streets came alive with armored soldiers. They came from every direction, soundlessly, despite their heavy artillery. "Surrender now or Gyrich and the animal die slowly." 

"No!" Izzy cried. 

A blue substance spread from Izzy's hands onto Emma's arms. Izzy looked skyward and closed her eyes. Images swarmed into her mind at an alarming rate. Good thing she caught her by surprise or it might be hurting more than it did already. Finally after what seemed like forever, but was only a fraction of a second, Izzy found what she was looking for. 

"I see him," she stated. She spread out her mind to encompass everyone around her, screaming from the strain. She could not grab the X-Men, no matter how hard she tried. Something in the men's armor blocked her. Her uncle remained out of reach too. 

#Go, child,# Emma projected to her. #Find Iceman and get help.# 

Emma pulled free of Izzy's grip and elbowed the soldier next to her. The man stumbled, hitting Skin with the butt of his gun and knocking him into Izzy. In the blink of an eye, a blue sphere formed around her. With a small flash of light, they both disappeared. 

* * * * * 

When Jean stepped out of the boathouse, Gambit could barely believe his eyes. She had dressed in a pair of worn boots, ripped jeans and a green halter top that accentuated not only her eyes, but also her well developed abs. 

"Chere, does Cyke know y' have clothes like dat?" Remy managed. 

"Yes, Remy, he does," she answered calmly. 

"Den why don' he make y' wear dem more often?" 

"So, you think I'll fit in?" she asked. 

"Don' worry. You look ev'ry inch de biker chic. Maybe I loan Cyke de Harley an' he take y' bar hoppin' next weekend, non?" The two climbed onto his bike, Jean clinging tightly to the Cajun's waist, and sped off toward the city's bright lights. 

Now, Jean heard the muted noise of a battle just around the corner from where she and Remy stood in the shadows. Her friends, her family needed her. She started out of the darkened alley, but her progress was halted by a gloved hand grabbing her wrist gently. 

"Too many soldiers, chere," Gambit told her. "We wouldn' be any help t' dem." 

Jean paused, shocked by his words. Usually Remy never hesitated to dive into any skirmish with the X-Men, no matter the odds. Of course, she realized, the entire team was not here, only an insomniac telepath with a bad feeling and an under the weather Cajun. "How do you know how many soldiers there are?" she asked curiously. She could only feel a shadowed presence, as if something was blocking her scan. 

"Years of t'ief trainin', chere," he replied glibly. "You hear de fighting sounds, non? Where is Wolverine's growl, or Jub'lee's fireworks. De battle be very one sided." 

She listened for a moment and nodded in solemn agreement. "Is there any way we can get a better look at them without being spotted?" 

Gambit grinned crookedly. "But of course," he answered. 

* * * * * 

Peter Parker sat in an old armchair in his living room. After Skin and Izzy's abrupt exit, Peter had been tempted to try and follow them, but the fact he kept his webslinging quiet made him reluctant. That did not help his ability to sleep, however. He jumped slightly when the phone rang beside him. He fumbled with it for a few moments before putting it to his ear. 

"Hullo?" he answered sleepily. 

"Parker, why haven't you left yet?" a voice bellowed on the other side of the line. 

"Mr. Jameson?" he said bewilderedly. "What are you talking about?" 

"It's all over the news, Parker. Turn on your TV." 

Peter obliged him. CNN was broadcasting from the city docks. He could see helicopters circling behind the veteran reporter's head, searching the area. The reporter herself, despite the makeup, looked like she had just woke up. It was four in the morning, he reminded himself. Suddenly the scene changed and Peter sat up abruptly. The television showed a full view of a building completely covered in ice. 

"Holy . . ." 

"My thoughts exactly, Parker," Jameson replied. "Now get down there and get me some pictures! I'll expect them for the morning edition." Parker pulled the phone from his ear as Jameson slammed down the phone. 

"Honey, I heard the phone ringing. Who was . . ." Mary Jane's voice faltered when she saw the image on the TV screen. "What happened? Is that building covered in . . .ice? It's the middle of April, during a heat wave." 

"I know," Peter answered. "J.J. wants pictures. No rest for the weary, I suppose." 

"You weren't sleeping anyway," Mary Jane countered. "Not with those two kids out who knows where." She glanced at the ice building once again. "Just be careful, ok?" 

"I promise," Peter answered, wrapping her in a loving embrace. 

* * * * * 

Jean and Gambit leaned up against the fire escape of one of the buildings adjacent to the crime scene, watching the action two stories below. Jean marveled at Gambit's ability to get them so close without being seen. One of these days, she would have to finish convincing her husband that he needed to get Gambit to tutor the X-Men in some of his "t'ievin' skills" as he so eloquently put it. She crouched beside Remy and observed the scene below. 

Several ambulances had arrived at the scene, their alarms screaming loudly. The police had arrived several minutes earlier and entered the building in full riot armor. Several men, scientists by the look of them, were wheeled of the building on dollies. Gambit shook silently with suppressed laughter beside her. She caught sight of three children huddled in one of the squad cars. The police officer had somehow bought them food even though it was the middle of the night. From their vantage point, they could hear the reporter. 

"Barely an hour ago, the building behind me looked no different than the ones next to it. However, at 2:30 EST, an unknown mutant terrorist group attacked the building, turning it to the icy form you see behind me. Seven scientists working at this federal building sustained minor injuries, but thankfully no fatalities have been reported. Details are not known at the moment as to the amount of property damage, but estimates are in the hundreds of millions of dollars." 

Suddenly, Gambit stiffened beside her even as she felt a presence moving swiftly toward them. Remy did not turn around, but she saw him draw several cards out of an invisible pocket inside his coat. A figure landed expertly on the fire escape railing and held up both his hands. 

"Whoa, hold it," he said glibly. "I'm one of the good guys." He eased himself off of the railing and Jean relaxed as she saw the familiar costume. 

"What brings you here this time of night?" Jean asked him curiously. 

"Skin and a friend of mine showed up at my house an hour ago," he started to explain. "They left looking for Iceman. When I saw the ice-scraper, I thought it was time I checked up on them." 

"Your frien' and Skin been lookin' fer Iceman? Anyone else wit' dem?" Gambit asked. 

"I remember Skin saying something about a Miss Frost," Spidey answered. "Izzy, my friend, said that some armored soldiers attacked her school earlier tonight." 

"Henri was goin' t' talk at a school," Gambit remembered. "Mus' be de same one, non?" 

"Probably," Jean reasoned. "Emma and Beast must have went searching for Iceman. Hopefully, they have found him by now." 

"I wouldn't be so sure," a voice said softly from the entrance of the alley. 

Spiderman looked toward the source of the voice and saw Ben Urich standing with his back to the three. Spidey had to respect the man's observance. Gambit blended into the shadow of the building, and he and Jean were hardly any more visible. Jean and Gambit gave him a questioning look and he nodded, saying they could trust him. 

"What have you heard, Ben?" Spiderman asked cautiously. 

"A police officer tells me that those three kids in the squad car swear they were saved by an icy man that was being held prisoner by the people that work in that building. The oldest girl says she even saw him inside some kind of glass tube when they brought her there a couple of days ago." Ben paused for a few moments, pretending to read through his notes. Spidey silently thanked him for not drawing attention toward them. He saw Gambit grin slightly as he realized his tactics. 

"They were brought in forty-five minutes ago by three teenagers, an Asian girl in a yellow coat, a gray-skinned boy, and a girl with glowing hands. They didn't stay around to make a statement." 

"Have you got anything else?" Spiderman probed. 

"An eyewitness reports to have seen Iceman flee the scene and later to have seen Henry Peter Gyrich and a group of mutants arguing. He went on to say that an unidentified woman entered the scene, knocked Gyrich in the head with a blunt object, and sicced two dozen armored troops on the remaining mutants. He said two escaped though, in a big blue globe." Ben sighed. "I can't make much of this story, but whatever happened, it isn't what the news is saying. I thought you guys might get more out of it than me." 

"Thanks, Ben," Spidey called down to him softly. 

"Just do one thing for me," Ben said as he started to leave. 

"What dat be, homme?" Gambit asked. 

"When you find whoever took those kids, hit them once for me. Those kids were tired, dirty, and hadn't eaten in days. I'd find your friend fast. He's probably not in any better shape than them if what the girl told me is true." 

"Thank you, sir," Jean told him as she left. She balled her hands into fists at her sides in fury. Gambit put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. 

Part Five 

Gyrich came to his senses slowly. A pronounced throbbing worked its way from the base of his skull to the edges of both his temples. Where was he? What had just happened? Gyrich tried to focus on the earlier events, but his pounding head prevented it. He only recalled one thing: the X-Men. Or, at least some of them were X-Men. There was also a strange woman and some teenagers. Gyrich wondered where they all were now. He tried to sit up and a soft groan escaped his lips. 

"I wouldn't move all that much if I were you, bub," a voice advised him gruffly. 

"The blow to the cranium you received from our humble host did not leave you unscathed. You have sustained a severe concussion and increased mobility will only aggravate the injury. Until a proper medical examination can be arranged and diagnosis made as to the condition of the occipital plate of your skull, I suggest you remain in your prone position." 

"What?" Gyrich asked faintly. 

"Beast said the bitch with the flashlight may've cracked your hard noggin, so don't move," Jubilee supplied for him. 

"Language," Miss Frost chided none too gently. 

Jubilee scowled. "We're all trapped in some abandoned basement by some. . . witch that's crazier than Gyrich. Iceman's missing along with Skin and I. . .mmmmfff!" 

Beast hastily clamped an oversized hand over Jubilee's mouth and half of her face. "We need not be reminded of our dire predicament." He leaned over close to Jubilee's ear. "Do not mention Izzy to Gyrich," Jubilee looked at him with confusion, but upon seeing Beast's serious expression did not say another word. 

"Why would you care about me?" Gyrich asked faintly. 

"Believe me, it's not you," Wolverine answered coldly. You got a fix on the kids yet, Frosty?" 

Gyrich opened his eyes to see the sole collarless person, besides himself sitting on the floor with her eyes closed. Her brow was furrowed in concentration and beaded with sweat. He could have sworn he saw a slight pinkish glow radiating from her body. He watched her with amazement. 

#I did not expect curiosity to be your first reaction upon encountering a mutant power,# Emma commented to him telepathically. Gyrich grimaced. 

"You're lady friend apparently did not do her homework as well as she thought," Emma commented aloud. "She failed to realize I possessed mutant abilities." She smiled sadly, but with a degree of pride. "She also underestimated Iceman's abilities and resourcefulness." 

"I think everybody did," Jubilee interjected. 

"What does Iceman have to do with all this?" Gyrich asked. This situation kept getting more and more complicated. All he had wanted to do tonight was make sure his Isabella was safe. 

"Iceman was the reason we were all at the laboratory," Beast explained. 

"The four hundred foot ice sculpture should have given you a clue, Gyrich," Emma explained coldly. Jubilee did a double take. "We discovered that your collegues have been performing experiments on him for the past week. Unfortunately, your compatriots covered their tracks well and we did not know of his apparent disappearance until tonight, or rather last night." 

"Allison had Iceman? They ran tests on him? Why didn't I know about this?" 

"Why indeed?" Emma glared at him. "I thought you kept your employees on short leashes. Unless you were in on it all along." 

"Nah, Frost," Wolverine interjected. "He's tellin' the truth. For once. The dame worked everything behind his back. The senses may be dampened, but I can still spot a lie." 

"Obviously, we are not the only people who have been left in the dark," Beast told Emma. "It appears that Operation: Wideawake is experiencing some degree of conflict of interest in its management infrastructure. Care to enlighten us as to the specifics of this mutiny." 

"Why should I tell you anything?" Gyrich argued. 

"Heads up, people," Wolverine growled. Emma quickly stopped her mental scanning as a laugh was heard near the darkened doorway. 

"Because the lives of that twit you call an X-Man, the ghetto Stretch Armstrong, and your niece quite possibly depend on what information you give them so they can make their escape," a voice answered with a chuckle. 

"Allison, what have you done with Isabella?" Gyrich demanded. Out of his line of vision, he heard a small gasp escape Jubilee's lips. 

She walked through the room until she stood over Henry Peter Gyrich. He squinted in order to focus on her face. No matter how hard he tried her visage still wavered slightly. Finally, with a nearly inaudible sigh, he gave up and just let the image swim in front of his eyes. 

"I think I like seeing you in this helpless state even more than I would like you dead. Good thing I ignored my first impulse to kill you back at the laboratory. Maybe you will prove to be of some use to me, especially since your niece is still running around." She turned to Ms. Frost. "Nice move, by the way," she commented. "Elbowing that guard so she and that Latino kid could make a break for it. I'll make sure you pay for that." 

Emma laughed at her haughtily. "You can try, certainly, though I seriously doubt you have the intelligence necessary." 

"Funny, Iceman said something to that effect after I captured him. Of course, his statement was a little more crude. He soon ate his words. Breaking him proved very entertaining. He struggled at first, but within 36 hours I had him blubbering like a newborn. It was a pity, really. All bark, no bite." 

Her speech was abruptlly halted by riotous laughter near the far wall of the room. Wolverine rolled around on the floor inside his elastic prison, tears streaming down his face as he gripped his sides and cackled with reckless abandon. 

"What do you find amusing, animal?" Stills asked with a frown. 

"You, lady!" he gasped, not even trying to contain his outburst. "Even without my senses, I can tell you're lyin'." Wolverine's eyes narrowed. His voice quieted. "He got under your skin, didn't he?" He saw Stills wince ever so slightly and continued, a smirk plastered across his face. "You tortured him, but he didn't give an inch. The second you laid eyes on him, you figured the kid'd be a pushover, no problem. But, you were wrong." 

"Cease this bantering," Stills commanded. 

"He beat you at your own game. Popscicle escaped and you learned nothing except that your machines don't work." 

"I will listen to no more of this," Stills yelled at the Canadian. 

Wolverine smiled at her sympathetically. "It's alright, lady. Everyone gets proven wrong once in a while. 'Course, most people realize it before someone destroys their entire operation." 

"That whelp means nothing to me," Stills argued. "I have more labs, more resources . . . " 

Wolverine chuckled once more. "You want to delude yourself, lie ta someone who knows better. I've seen that twinkle in a body's eye too often. You wanted ta control him like a puppet on a string. So, you put him in a big glass jar, hopin' he'd crack and tell ya everything you wanted to know. But your plan backfired, bigtime, and it's eatin' away at ya. Face it, ya want 'em bad. He destroyed your building, froze your staff, let out your other experiments. It really gets to ya, don' it?" 

"Shut up!" the woman screamed. An electrical pulse ran through the Wolverine's elastic bubble and rippled though his nerve synapses. An inhuman howl escaped his lips as the smell of burnt flesh and hair circulated through the small room. 

After a few minutes, Allison Stills pushed a button on the small remote she held in her hand. She wrinkled her nose at the smell and headed for the door. "He's nothing! An animal, a lab rat to pick apart at my leisure, an _it_. He's not even worth the air he expends. Someone should have shot him the moment he showed signs of mutancy!" she cried. "All you muties deserve to die. Every single last one of you! But he will suffer like none of you can ever imagine. He will plead for death. I _will_ get him back! And I will break him!" 

"You're a fool if you think he'll ever tell you anything," Gyrich sneered from his place on the floor. His statement was rewarded by a kick to the face that left his ears ringing. Stills stomped out of the room and slammed the door. A weak chuckle was heard on the other side of the room from Wolverine. 

"Remind me t' give Snowball a pat on the back next time I see 'em," Wolverine commented hoarsely. "Up 'til now, I thought only me 'n Gumbo could piss a woman off that bad." 

Silence prevailed over the room for several moments after the woman left, both because of her barely contained moments of psychosis and Gyrich's unexpected outburst. Jubilee, the only abuductee close enough to reach Gyrich wiped away the trails of blood now coming from his nose and busted lip with a napkin from her yellow coat. She repositioned his cracked glasses over his eyes. 

"Ya know, that almost sounded like you were takin' up for an X-Man for a sec," she commented quietly. She was not sure how to speak to the man, who at any other time would be her enemy. 

"I owed it to Iceman. He saved Isabella's life," he answered. Gyrich looked at the girl. He knew there was no reason she should even care about him, given her past with the X-Men and his with Wideawake and Operation Zero Tolerance. If the situation was reversed, he wondered if he would have shown compassion toward her. He shuddered inwardly when he realized the answer. His niece would have though, without a second thought about her past, background, or genetic makeup. She was about the same age as his niece, he realized upon closer scrutiny, actually a little younger. Suddenly something Allison Stills said struck him. 

"Allison said Isabella and someone escaped," he began, wincing from the pain talking caused. "Where did they go? Why was she with you?" 

"She was helping us find Iceman," Frost answered coolly. "She and another boy managed to escape the amored strike force you led to us." 

"Why did you let her put herself in that kind of danger?" he asked accusingly. 

Emma looked slightly ashamed. Jubilee broke in before Ms. Frost could respond. "She knew exactly what she was getting into, HPG," Jubilee answered. "She felt it was her responsibilty, and no one could convince her otherwise." 

Just a hint of a smile appeared on Gyrich's face. "Isabella's a stubborn girl, isn't she?" He tried to shift his head, but when that didn't work, he just moved his eyes until he was looking at Emma. "Where did they go?" he asked weakly. 

"To find Iceman, of course," she answered. 

Gyrich seemed satisfied with that answer and was quiet. At least he knew she was safe, for the moment. He decided to look at the ceiling and try to ignore the pain in his skull. 

* * * * * 

"I've got to stop doing this," Angelo grumbled from where he laid on the ground. He opened his eyes with a groan and turned over on his stomach. "Maybe one of these days, I'll get used to popping from one place to another." 

With that thought, he realized he hadn't heard anything from Izzy yet. He got to his feet as fast as his disoriented body would allow and looked around frantically. He saw her sitting, huddled in a ball, not far from him. He went over and helped her to her feet. 

"When we find Iceman, I'm going to take a bottle of aspirin and sleep for a week. And I am never trying to look into Miss Frost's mind again," she said through chattering teeth. Her lips had taken on a slightly blue cast and she was shivering uncontrollably. She started jumping up and down and pacing to get her blood warmed. "And I'm going to sleep in the thickest pair of flannel pajamas I own." 

"I hear ya," he agreed. "I haven't even done anything and I'm totally bushed. I don't even see how you can stand, much less jump up and down." 

"One of the many advantages of being slightly hyperactive," she answered with a grin. She wasn't shivering nearly as bad now, but her lips were still slightly blue. Angelo decided to keep an eye on her. 

"So, where are we?" he asked. 

Izzy looked over at him. That's when she noticed the gash on his forehead. "You're bleeding!" she informed him with alarm. 

Angelo touched his forehead, and sure enough, saw a smudge of red on his fingertips. He held his fingers there for a minute until he believed the bleeding had ebbed. "Don't worry about it, chica. I'll be fine. Where's Iceman? 

"From what I got from Ms. Frost's mind, which wasn't much more than a monster headache, he should be right on top of us." 

She wasn't that far off. In truth, he was right above them. The two jumped as he crashed into an oak tree 100 yards from where they stood. Angelo and Izzy turned to see him fall to the ground. 

"There he is!" Izzy exclaimed and ran toward him, Angelo not far behind. 

Iceman staggered to his feet. He didn't know where he was, all he knew was he had to get away. There was no way he would let them take him back, ever. His head was swimming so much, he could barely tell up from down. The only thing on his mind was escape, and no one was going to stop him. 

Izzy came to a halt about twenty feet from where he stood. "Iceman, stop," she called. 

"I'm not going back there!" he screamed. In a split second eight ice spikes formed in the air, spiraling straight at Izzy, who was still recovering from her last teleport. 

Angelo reacted instinctively. His fingers lashed out and grabbed the nearest tree branch, several feet away. He grabbed Izzy tightly around the waist and swung them Tarzan style out of harm's way. He deposited Izzy near the tree and quickly pulled in the extra skin until his fingers were their normal length again. 

"You okay?" he asked her. 

"Yeah" she reassured him. "You alright?" 

He nodded. 

Izzy promptly punched him in the arm. "How dare you not tell me you could do such neat things with your hands! Here I am flaunting my 'gifts' and I didn't even let you share in the fun." 

Their banter was cut short when they saw Iceman coming toward them. The ice gave way to his flesh and blood form and he stumbled. He shook his head, as if to clear it and stared at them. The two backed up apprehensively. 

"Skin . . . Izzy?" he asked, his voice like sand paper getting rubbed against a cheese grinder. Both of them could hear the exhaustion, as well as a glint of hope in his voice. The last of his strength drained away and he collapsed to the ground with a hoarse moan. Angelo and Izzy approached him cautiously. 

"How is he?" Skin asked when they got to his unconscious form. 

"He's alive, but he looks like he's been through the ringer," Izzy answered. "Of course, I'm no doctor, just one of the few people who actually paid attention in first aid. There's about a billion things I could miss. He's dehydrated . . . I think, and as crazy as it sounds, feverish." She looked at his face, covered with several days worth of beard growth. Even the stubble didn't cover up how young he was underneath all that ice. She noticed the dark circles under his eyes. "I don't think he's slept in days," she said, pity etched in her voice. Izzy looked at the ground. "He's been tortured," she said, more to herself than to Skin. 

Angelo swore under his breath. Whoever did this was going to pay, he silently vowed it. Iceman didn't do anything to deserve being treated like some kind of lab experiment. He had watched scenerios and the few pieces of old footage showing the original X-Men in action. Iceman didn't pull punches, but he never lashed out with this kind of cruelty. There was no reason for something like this to happen to him, to anyone. Of course, when was life ever fair? Suddenly, a movement from the road caught his eye. It was the armored men, moving in from far off in the distance. 

"Um, Izzy," he asked. "We need to get out of here. Now" 

"What?" 

"Remember those armored freaks from earlier? They're back with a vengence. Got any ideas where we could go? How about Spidey's crib?" 

"I don't think I could make it there with all three of us," she admitted regretfully. "I'm thinking, though." 

"Make it fast, they're getting closer," he informed her. They both made sure not to make eye contact and tell the strike force they had sensed their presence. Angelo silently wished that he or Izzy possessed enhanced strength. Then they could just carry Iceman out of here. Iceman looked light enough for Skin to pick up, but running from their pursuit with him in tow was a different matter entirely. 

Izzy grabbed Angelo's hand and pulled him down beside her and Iceman. "We're going to have to be close together in order for this to work. How close are they?" 

"Just behind that stand of trees. They're waiting to ambush us," Skin answered. 

A small blue globe formed in her hand and slowly began to expand. Skin could see sweat beading on her brow from the effort. The globe in her palm got darker and darker until it more closely resembled a tiny black hole. "Hold on tight. This is going to be a bumpy ride." Almost quicker than Angelo could comprehend, the globe engulfed the three of them. Izzy grabbed Iceman and him by the arm. He could feel the heat draining from her fingers. Izzy's jaw clenched and eerily blue orbs glowed where hazel eyes had been only moments ago. 

"And we're off!" she yelled. They disappeared in a blinding flash of blue, leaving nothing behind, save eight ice spikes melting in the grass. 

* * * * * 


	3. Two X-Men, an arachid, a reporter, and t...

Body Ok, guys sorry it took so long for me to write so little. I've been busy and had a few problems with formatting. But enough excuses, here's the next part for all you loyal fans. It's nowhere near done, but I'm working on that now too. 

Remember, I don't own any of the X-Men, Spiderman, Emma Frost, The Fantastic Four, sliced bread, or any of that other stuff everyone reading this is probably familiar with. However, the people you don't recognize (Izzy, Ms. Stills, and Andrew, his kids, and the individual FoH members that appear in this chapter) are figments of MY imagination, not Marvels. So, if by some slim chance anyone wants to use them, please ask. 

And now, on with the show. 

Empathy 

Chapter 3 

Jean held tightly to Gambit's waist as they sped down the streets of New York City. Even in the middle of the night, a steady stream of traffic still clogged the street. However, Gambit weaved around the vehicles like they were standing still. Spiderman sailed several stories above them, webslinging from building to building. The spidertracer he had attached to the back of Izzy's shirt earlier was still broadcasting. Jean had the three of them linked telepathically. 

#How close are we?# she asked Spiderman. 

#Izzy's still a ways away from here,# Spiderman answered back. #Anything from your search?# he asked. 

#Not yet,# she answered regretfully. #But I'm going to attempt to contact them again. I'll keep us linked so all three of us can hear any contact I make.# 

#Jes as long as de White Queen don' fry m' brain,# Gambit answered. 

Phoenix ignored his statement and reached out onto the Astral Plane, searching for any sign of Emma Frost, Wolverine, or any of the others she knew to be missing. She also kept a psychic eye out for Bobby, even though she hadn't felt him since his initial contact. The lack of contact from him was beginning to worry her. Suddenly Jean caught a thought fragment and with a sigh of relief, followed #It is about time you found me, Phoenix.# Emma answered coldly. #I've been sending out feelers for hours.# 

#De chere's been a little busy,# Gambit retorted. #Wit de shout Iceman t'rew out tonight an' all.# 

Emma paused for a moment. #You heard it too?# Jean could sense her anxiety and her fear for the young X-Man. #I had made brief contact with him earlier. . . but he pushed me out of his head before I could find where he was being held.# A sense of pride entered her voice and Jean could almost see a ghost of a smile come to her face. #It seems he's been working on more than his ice powers. He's becoming as close-minded as the Cajun.# 

#T'ank you, chere,# Gambit chimed in. 

#Where are you?# Spiderman asked, speaking for the first time. #Is Izzy with you?# 

#How many people are listening in on this conversation?# Emma asked incredulously. She was beginning to feel like she was talking over an intercom. 

#Just Gambit, Spiderman, and myself, Emma. Now, what's your situation?# #Beast, Jubilee, Wolverine, Henry Peter Gyrich, and myself, are being detained against our will in a storage room. I'm not sure of the location, although I am fairly certain we are still in Manhattan. Wolverine has been contained in a sort of elastic holding field. Beast is working on a way to deactivate it. Jubilee and Beast were fitted with inhibitor collars shortly after our capture. However, they neglected to realize that I also possess 'extra' abilities. Over the past hour, I have gleaned a complete schematic of the building, as well as a timetable of the security's rounds. After we remove our restraints, we should be able to escape with minimal setbacks.# 

#Y' find anyt'ing on location of keys, security checkpoints, or their tripwire and infrared setups?# Gambit chimed in. 

#I have a sketchy picture compiled from several of the guards minds, and from hitchhiking while one guard made his rounds.# 

#Do they patrol outside routinely?# Spiderman inquired. 

#I have yet to encounter a guard who patrols outside the building.# Frost answered. 

#Does Gyrich still have his glasses on?# 

#. . .# Gambit's question left the White Queen bewildered, but she answered nonetheless. #Yes he does. Why?# 

#Can Jub'lee get to them?# he continued. 

#Yes, she can,# Emma answered, still confused. 

#Tell her I said 'stop being de victim and start being the t'ief I know she be.# 

The conversation lagged for a second while the headmistress relayed the message. When she again spoke, all three of them felt the small satisfied smile on her face. #Miss Lee says, Thanks for the kick in the head, dude. 

How exactly did you know of Jubilee's lock picking ability?# he inquired. 

#Who do you t'ink taught 'er, headmistress?# he asked. #Taught her an' Iceman bot' when dey was prankin' each ot'er a while back. She already knew de basics, but I gave her finesse # 

#Mr. LeBeau?# 

#Yeh, chere?# 

#When all this is over, you are guest lecturing at the Academy.# Emma informed him. 

#Cyclops will have a fit over that one,# Jean interjected. The three chuckled at the thought of Cyclops' likely objections to teaching children how to break into locked areas. They all also knew that after the initial shock wore off, he'd see the reasoning behind it. He wasn't ignorant, he just wanted the kids at the Massachusetts Academy to lead a semblance of a normal childhood. 

#Whoa!# Spiderman exclaimed breaking into what had been, for the most part, a three way conversation. #Izzy's location just moved seven miles in less than a second!# 

#Find Iceman and the kids, as fast as you possibly can,# Jean could sense her urgency. #They need you much more than we do right now. We can rendezvous somewhere safe.# 

#I've got just the place to regroup,# Jean said and started relaying information to Emma. 

#Don't worry about us,# Emma said with a small mental wave. #Our ticket out of here just started down the hallway.# 

She brought the link with a predatory smirk. Jean sighed. That poor guard. 

* * * * * 

Andrew McGavin skulked down the abandoned corridor of the basement cursing the day he started working for Allison Stills. The thud of his boots echoed down the hallways as he passed the seemingly endless row of doors that lined the dimly lit hallway. He hated the graveyard shift. He especially loathed it when he had to come to work on his night off. 

Right now, I should be reading bedtime stories to my kids, he thought. Not here looking after a bunch of boxes. He was so absorbed in his fuming that he didn't notice the shadow lurking just inside one of the many doorways. He didn't even know someone was watching him until a heavy weight knocked him to the ground. The man looked up. A gargantuan of blue fur perched on his ribcage. The giant, noticing the guard's gaze, smiled down at him, exposing pointed canines to go along with his savage appearance. Andrew's mouth dropped open in surprise. This was the last thing he had expected to find in the basement. Rats, maybe, but this, no way. Beast, having seen this reaction several times, prepared for the inevitable scream he would have to silence since his initial attack had failed to knock the man unconscious. The guard looked up at him, his mouth frantically trying to emit any sound. Beast reached a furry hand toward the guard's mouth, but the guard found his voice the instant the doctor started moving. 

"Hey, aren't you an Avenger?" Andrew asked. Definitely not what Henry McCoy was expecting. Beast cocked his head to one side and looked at the man curiously. 

"From time to time, yes." 

Andrew scowled, completely oblivious to the X-Man still perched on his torso. I knew Ms. Stills was up to something rotten! The late hours, the mysterious cargo deliveries, all the extra security personnel, it all makes sense now. 

"While I find your deductions fascinating, your continued state of consciousness impedes our emancipation. Beast raised his arm to deliver a knock out blow." 

"Wait!" Andrew shouted, finally realizing he was about to be bludgeoned. "You don't have to do this. I'm not working for a woman who just goes around kidnapping people, Avengers no less. I'm a security guard, not an evil minion." 

Beast lowered his hand slightly. This was a first. "You have no loyalty to, what was it you called her, Ms. Stills?" 

Andrew snorted. "Loyalty? I hate her guts. She's the worst boss I've ever had. I should have known something fishy was going on, what with all the late night shifts, but I've got to find some way to put food on the table." 

"What's the holdup, Blue?" Another voice chimed from the open doorway just to Andrew's left. "How long's it take to crack a Rent-a-Cop's skull?" 

"Well, Jubilee, it appears that this guard is somewhat singular. He has no wish to fight with us." 

"He's just tryin' to distract ya until the other guards get here, Beast!" Jubilee argued. "Stop talkin' and start knockin'!" 

"The young lady has a point, my friend," Beast conceded. He once again raised his arm to strike. 

"I'm the only one that comes down here," Andrew assured his attacker. He addressed the mysterious speaker in the shadow of the doorway. "I stopped working for my boss the moment I found out she was breaking the law. But I also have friends working here tonight, guys who have no idea what Ms. Stills has been up to. I don't want them getting hurt. I can make it where you don't have to confront any of them." 

"How do we know you're telling the truth?" Beast asked. 

"Yeah, for all we know, you're just some smooth talkin' mutie-hater trying to play us for fools and waitin' for the Friends of Humanity to rescue ya. Why would you just up and quit because you found out some little secret about your boss?" 

"Because I want to be able to look my kids in the eye in the morning," Andrew replied softly. The mysterious young woman stepped out of the shadows. He was surprised at how young and small she was. She couldn't be more than a few years older than his own children. Her eyes still looked wary, but there was a certain curiosity in her features, so he continued. "I have two kids, twins, a boy and a girl. They're eleven, and I love them with all my heart. They've been getting into trouble at school lately though. My son got beat up by some of the other boys in his class during recess. He refused to play 'Chase the Mutie.' The principal told me he said 'Only dumbness play stupid games like that.' That's when the other boy hit him. 

The girl, Jubilee, giggled. "I like the kid already. He's a real piece of work." 

Andrew smiled at that statement. "Yeah, he is. I punished him for the bad language, but not for his refusal to play the game. He had a good reason. The 'mutie' in the game was my son's best friend Kyle. He's a nice kid, smart, a little on the quiet side, and he has purple hair. Not just a weird shade of brownish purple either. Bright purple, like the shirt you have on," he said, pointing at Jubilee. "It's been that way his whole life. None of his classmates paid any attention to it until this year. I think my two kids are the only friends he has left. They are also the ones who keep him from the bullies. My daughter locked the Friends of Humanity representatives in the bathroom when they came to hand out flyers last week. They weren't very happy." 

"What happened to her?" Jubilee asked in shock. 

"The principal turned over punishment to my daughter's teacher. So, she got off pretty light." 

"Why?" 

"Her teacher held the door while my daughter locked it. She decided my daughter had the right idea." 

"That's not what convinced you the Friends of Humanity was bad news though, was it?" Another prisoner stepped forward, carrying someone. The man was almost as wide as he was tall, but by no means was he out of shape. He radiated a kind of power and wildness that slightly unsettled the security guard. But neither the girl nor the Beast seemed fazed in the least, so he answered the strange man's question as the man eased his cargo to the ground. 

"I am pleased to see you got out of that membranous shielding, Wolverine," Beast greeted the man cordially. The man, Wolverine, only grunted in reply. 

"No, I still thought the Friends of Humanity might have a point. I mean, Kyle was harmless, but what about mutants who have no respect for the law? The ones who can sink ships with a thought, or alter people's memories? What about them?" Andrew looked at the man that Wolverine had carried into the hallway. He didn't look so good. Blood oozed from his busted lips and he didn't seem very aware of his surroundings. In fact, it seemed that the occasional tap and hushed words from the wild man were the only thing keeping him conscious at all. However, Andrew noticed the man look over at him as he continued to speak. 

"I decided to attend a Friends of Humanity meeting being held a few blocks away one night, so I left my kids at the neighbors' and went to check it out. I went into the auditorium and sat in the back. All of the men and women wearing matching shirts were kind of intimidating, you know." 

It was like any other meeting I'd been to at first. The announced the old business, talked about the budget, arranged for volunteers to go to the local schools, or around the neighborhoods knocking on doors. Then, all of a sudden, a man burst through the door. At first everyone startles and jerks around. But then, they stand up and clap as they all realize who has entered their humble neighborhood meeting. It was the district vice president, followed very closely by the most fidgety secretary I had ever seen in my entire life. He stormed onto the stage, bypassing the steps altogether, and just jumping onto the raised platform. He had a paper in his hand and was not happy at all." 

"The secretary fumbled with the latch of the briefcase she held for a few moments before it finally sprang open, then gave piles of fliers to the rest of the men on the stage. The men quickly began passing the fliers around. The vice president only got redder with angrier every passing second. I took a sheet, and began reading the photocopied article as they went around to the rest of the group." 

"It started with a story. The story told about a little boy who loved to read and play baseball. He made good grades in school so that his mother would let him play his favorite sport during the spring and summer. One day, the boy started to get headaches, really bad ones that made him see spots and pass out." 

"His parents worried and fussed over their only child, and took him to a specialist. The specialist told them that he carried the X-factor. His father slammed his hand against the wall; his mother started crying. The boy, being only eleven at the time, asked what was wrong. Was he dying? The doctor, seeing his parents were upsetting the boy, tried to explain. "You're a mutant," he'd told him. 

"What's a mutant?" the little boy had asked. The doctor had explained it to him that a mutant was someone who was different than normal people like his mother and father. 

The boy had frowned then, clearly confused. "But Mom and Dad told me I came from them," he'd argued. He remembered his parents explaining this to him not too long ago. "How can I be so different from them?" he asked. The article went on to talk about the senselessness of bigotry toward people who in the end weren't that different. The article was simply written, but went right to the root of the problem instead of dancing around the issue. 

It spoke to something deep within me. I started to pay attention when I noticed the vice president was reading the end of the article. "In the end," he began. "every mutant you shamelessly shun is someone's son or daughter, someone's neighbor, someone's friend. They are frightened children who have to deal with tremendous changes. They are your children, your friends, your coworkers and neighbors. Mutants eat, sleep, and go to the park just like everyone else. Do you know why? It is because they are everyone else." 

The man promptly took the newspaper and tore it to tiny bits on the platform. When he looked back at the crowd of FoH members, I shivered. The vice president looked feral as he eyed each and every one of us. "I can't believe 

that J. Jonah Jamesson is allowing this _filth_ to be published in his newspaper. These sugarcoated lies are going to make humans go astray. They're going to lose sight of the issue." I watched in surprise as several people around me agreed with him. How could they condemn this article? It only stated facts. It didn't ask us to simply forget that some mutants were dangerous, it just asked us to believe that every one was human. What was so wrong? 

The man continued, oblivious to my thoughts. "What nonsense! Mutants are not everyone else. They are an abomination, a plague contaminating this earth. My children are pure! No child of mine would ever be a mutant. A mutant child is no child of mine! An abomination like that is a mistake that should be put out of its misery." 

I fled the room as everyone was standing up and cheering for that monster. I barely made it to the bathroom before my stomach rebelled. I vomited up everything I had eaten that day. He was talking about killing children. He was advocating the slaughter of innocents who had no control over what was happening to them. He was going to end someone's life over a fluke of Nature! 

What if one of his children was a mutant? I chilled at the thought. How could anyone be so cruel? The assembled mutants didn't have an answer for him. They had never figured out the rationale of such radical members of the Friends of Humanity. They all turned as one when someone cleared their throat. 

"Fear is a strong modivator, Andrew. Fear and misunderstanding," Gyrich answered weakly from the floor. 

Andrew nodded. "I went home and gathered up everything the Friends of Humanity had ever given me. I burned it in my backyard. The smoke attracted the attention of my neighbors. I explained to them what I had heard at the meeting that night. They gathered up their things and added them to the bonfire. At three in the morning, my entire block watched as every piece of propaganda in our neighborhood was reduced to ash. We started our own group. We bring the articles Isaac writes from the Daily Bugle and articles we find about any activities involving mutants. Some of us still aren't the most tolerant people in the world, but we don't talk about killing our children. We discuss what going on without coloring the issues with hate. Most of us still believe there's a problem, but we're not sure who's the problem anymore. 

Hank put a companionable hand on the security guard's shoulder. "You and your neighbors are doing something truly noble. Hopefully others will soon follow in your footsteps." 

"You shouldn't be thanking us; you should thank Isaac. He's the one who started writing all the editorials for the _Daily Bugle_," Andrew contradicted. "His opinions have gotten people to talking. Not all of the talk is good, in fact some of it is downright militant. But now some people are coming to realize exactly how extreme anti-mutant group philosophies are. These articles are making people think." 

"And sometimes free thought can be the most powerful weapon of all," Emma said as she came out of the room. "We need to leave. Iceman needs us." 

"What are we going to do with Gyrich?" Wolverine asked. "We can't drag him around New York like this. He needs a doctor, or at least someone to keep an eye on 'em until all this is over." 

"I concur," Beast answered. "We must deposit our injured colleague at the closest possible medical facility as expediently as possible. His presumably fractured cranium begs tending to." 

"Uh, Hankster," Jubilee piped in. "Just one thing, 'Wanted Mutant Terrorists', remember. We get within two miles of a hospital and every bit of security they have will make a grab for us. Not that we couldn't handle 'em, but it ain't really our style, ya know?" 

Andrew smiled slightly. "Actually, I'm not feeling that well myself. I must be coming down with whatever my son has. I think I'm going to get the others to cover for me the rest of the night." The gathered mutants looked at him in confusion, except Emma Frost, whose tiny smile mirrored his own. "Yeah, you know, go talk to the rest of the guards in the surveillance room, tell them I feel guilty for leaving them shorthanded and all, but I'm not any good to anybody if I'm stuck in the bathroom, puking my guts up all night. They're my friends. They'll be concerned, ask me how I'll get home in my condition. They don't need to worry though. I mean, how hard is it to get into a car and drive home. I don't even lock the doors since it's in a fenced-in private lot. I don't think any car thief is going to want a dark blue '85 Tempo anyway, not with all the other more expensive cars around it. The action figures in the back window do little to add to its attractiveness, unless you really like The Fantastic Four." 

"Yeah, the one of Thing looks nothin' like him," Wolverine commented in a low voice. 

"I'll just be on my way now. The guy's are going to wonder where I've been. It should take me about ten minutes to get off for the rest of the night, and go get my kids from the sitter's. Of course, if I find someone in trouble, then I'll have to get them medical attention. I'm a good Samaritan, after all." 

Without another word, Andrew turned and made his way down the hallway, toward the stairs that led to the surveillance room, whistling off key as he went. The entire gang watched him silently until the stairwell door closed behind him. 

Beast sighed, bemused. "That you are, my friend. That, you most definitely are." 


	4. The bumpy landing

**A/N**

There's a reason that I didn't update for, like, over a year. There really is, I swear! You see, my story and I had a. . . disagreement of sorts. I wanted to continue on, while It (yes, my story is an It) refused to tell me what direction it was going. We fought. It pouted. Finally, It swallowed It's pride and apologized. While our relationship remains rocky, It has started to cooperate once again and we are going to try to get on track after this long hiatus. 

Thanks to Steff, you great person you, for e-mailing me and alerting me to the fact that people actually were still wondering what the heck was going on with this story. I'm truly sorry I left the story hanging for so long. I'll try to do better. And thank you, everyone, who wrote such wonderful reviews. I've never gotten such praise before. You're making me blush! Thank you! You guys are the reason I'm once again trying to tackle this monstrosity. *Yes, It, I'm calling you a monstrosity. Deal with it!* 

**Disclaimer**

Ok, here it goes. All of these characters belong to Marvel Comics, and by this time also some movie and/or TV corporations. Any of the several characters, like Izzy, Allison, and Andrew, are figments of my imagination put in writing. I am borrowing the Marvel characters simply to write a bit of entertaining dribble and am making no money with these tapped out little dramas. Of course, if Marvel would like to hire me and pay me, I wouldn't say no. Right now, I'm toting around a college degree while I work 3rd shift at Steak N' Shake. 

I'm waiting for a job offer, Marvel. 

And now, (after eons) on with the show! 

Empathy 

Chapter 4 

As her dorm room came into view, Izzy almost whooped with delight. The amount of concentration it was taking her to transport herself, Skin, and Iceman prevented it, however. A small smile did escape, however. But she knew this sense of euphoria wouldn't last long, not with the amount energy she was expending. Sweat ran into her eyes and trickled down her back, even though she didn't feel warm at all. In fact, she didn't feel much of anything. She knew Angelo was beside her. She could feel both his reassuring presence and his hand tightly clasping her own. Their other passenger was at their feet; she'd had to stand at the last second to make sure she included them all in her transport. She wished she knew how he was holding up. She'd never transported an unconscious person before, and hoped it didn't hurt him anymore than he was already. But she hadn't had a choice at the time; they'd needed a quick exit. They'd all just have to live with the consequences. 

Somehow, she got the impression she wouldn't be in any condition to do much of anything once they fully entered the room. Maybe it was the way she could physically feel heat leaving her body as her globe became more visible in the room. Or it could be the way her whole body had began to shiver after she'd started her transport. Not for the first time, she wished she'd brought a jacket along for this little jaunt. Her short sleeved T-shirt really wasn't cutting it in the warmth department at the moment. _"Just think warm thoughts and let's get this over and done with, Izzy!" _she mentally chided herself. 

Izzy felt her senses falter and knew she didn't have much time left. While she could see her room dimly through the globe surrounding them, they were still, quite literally, between here and there. Deep inside, she knew they couldn't be caught between places when her strength ran out. At best, they'd have a bumpy landing, at worst. . . well, she didn't want to think about it. She screwed her eyes shut, extending her senses to encompass every aspect of the room. Forcing herself to tighten her focuse a little further, Izzy nudged Iceman's motionless body toward the bed. Dark spots swam in front of her eyes and her entire body shook from the strain. The more opaque her globe became, the colder Izzy got, and the less she felt from those around her. She had to finish this now. With a quick prayer to whoever might be listening, she tightened her hold on her passengers and did the only thing left. 

She pulled, hard. 

* * * * * 

The first thing Angelo noticed when he became aware of his surroundings again was the fact that he was no longer standing. The second was that he no longer held Izzy's hand. He felt disappointed by its absence. She must have let go of it some time during the transport. 

His mind kicked into higher gear at the thought. Speaking of transport, where the hell were they anyway? Izzy hadn't been very forthcoming about their destination, not that they'd had any time to discuss it beforehand. Oh, well. Guess there's only one way to find out. 

With a groan, Angelo opened his eyes and chanced a look around. They were in someone's bedroom, either Izzy's or someone she knew he guessed. Iceman's unconscious body lay on the small bed a few feet away. He appeared no worse for wear than before. 

"Hey, Izzy," he called hoarsely. He cleared his throat, feeling drained. "Where are we?" Angelo craned his neck, trying to get a better perspective from where he lay in front of the couch. "Izzy? Chica?" 

No answer. 

"This isn't the time to play hide and seek." Angelo forced down the panic rising in his gut. He painfully pulled himself to his feet, his concern growing as he realized just how much all this hopping around the city had taken out of him. And he wasn't even the one doing the transporting. 

Angelo shook away the thought and walked around the couch, determined to find his friend. "I swear, Izzy, if this is some kind of . . ." 

What he saw stopped him in his tracks. 

"Dios mio!" 

He'd just found Izzy. 

* * * * * 

Cold. Everywhere, cold. Too cold to move, too cold to even shiver. It penetrated her skin, her organs, her bones, her very soul. It defined her existence. Nothing else demanded her attention, not family or friends, light or dark, past or future. Only two things registered in her thought process, the now, and it's all encompassing chill. Everything around her was dark and silent, frozen like her, waiting. All the heat was gone like the Ice Ages had never really ended and the feeling of warmth against her skin only existed as a far away dream from which she'd been rudely awakened. Only the cold reminded her that she was real. She was empty, hollow, numb. 

This feeling lasted for nearly twenty seconds. Then the pain came. 

It started as a dull ache at the back of her skull, as her senses told her she was lying on a tiled floor. Then, her fingers began to twitch, and a heaviness settled on her chest. The muscles in her legs began to spasm and her back arched, sending brittle shards of pain up her spine. It felt like her body was breaking itself in half. Her chin dropped as she prepared to scream out in pain. 

Nothing happened. 

Her chest clenched, the heaviness pressing down even harder. Her lungs refused to draw in air. The pain seeped into her body, seized her lungs, and held them in its deadly grip. Izzy's eyes snapped open in horror. Her field of vision was fuzzy, save for the spots dancing before her eyes. 

She desperately tried to get her unresponsive lungs to work, to pull in the oxygen she so desperately needed. But she was so cold, her body merely a frozen chunk of flesh. Pain lanced through every nerve synapse. Her back arched and she gasped, trying futilely to fill her lungs. Her arms and legs moved sporadically, fighting to regain control. 

Darkness began to encroach her vision, and Izzy felt a bolt of pure terror pass through her. She was suffocating, her brain realized in a moment of clarity, starved for oxygen in a room full of the lifegiving substance. Her mind desperately called out for help, and her mouth desperately tried to form words she didn't have the breath to utter. Even as the light faded from view, she struggled. She would not die, lying in the floor of her own bedroom. Icy tears filled her eyes, blurring her vision even further as she continued to fight for her life. What was her uncle going to think if she died? Or her new friends? Another tremor wracked her frame, and her jaw clenched as the tears in her eyes finally overflowed and rolled down her cheeks. She closed her eyes. Was this what it was like to die? Was this Hell? 

Suddenly, a new sensation entered her muddled brain. Soft hands forced her chin back and warm lips pressed against her own. Warmth flooded her airway and forced itself into her lungs. The cold receded a bit. Tiny cracks formed in ice. Her lungs clenched, but didn't expanded. 

Another breath was forced in. Izzy thought she heard muttered swear words as the air pushed its way down her trachea and into her frozen lungs. But she was floating, detached from whatever was now happening to her body. Still, the cold was starting to disappear. 

A third breath entered her mouth, given from now shaking lips. "Dammit, Izzy!" a voice cried, hitching as he said her name. 

Oh, god! Angelo! 

Even as the air entered and warmed her lungs, she was slammed brutally back into reality. With a strangled gasp, Izzy took the most painful breath of her life, quickly followed by another as her lungs greedily sucked in the air they'd been denied. Izzy distantly heard Angelo's cry of relief as her body tried to rid itself of all the excess carbon dioxide, and inhale more oxygen through a coughing fit. 

"Angelo?" she asked weakly, as soon as she had enough breath to speak. Her vision began to clear, and she saw Skin looking down at her, concern clearly etched on his face. 

He smiled at her happily when he noticed she was actually looking at him and not through him. "Don't you ever scare me like that again," he ordered her seriously before disappearing from her limited line of sight. 

Warm arms wrapped around her and she pulled tightly against someone's chest. Soft cotton brushed against the side of her neck and face as Angelo cocooned himself around Izzy's still freezing body. 

"Wha?" 

"Ssshh, chica. We gotta get you warm." 

Everything went fuzzy after that. Izzy's brain dimmed while her body soaked up the heat that had been denied it for so long. After the cold, Angelo's body pressed against hers was like food to a starving man. She stayed in the half-conscious state until she became aware of the fact that she was shivering violently. And she wasn't the only one. 

"A-Angelo, let g-go. Y, you're g-get-ting c-cold too!" 

"S'ok," he answered simply. 

"No it's not!" Izzy's exclamation was stopped by another coughing fit. 

"You w-w-were f-freezin' t' death r-right in front o-of me!" Angelo argued. "I'm b-buyin' us t-time" 

"F-f-for w-what?" Izzy asked. 

"For the c-calvary." 

* * * * * 

Most nights, the attending ER physician acted as the guiding light for the other doctors, nurses, and hospital staff, especially when important political figures suddenly entered their doors sporting serious head wounds of mysterious origin. Most of the time, anyone compassionate enough to pick up an injured man and get him medical attention, any good Samaritan like Andrew McGavin, would be plastered all over the news as a "Home Town Hero" for rescuing the illustrious Henry Peter Gyrich, one of the top players in the arena of mutant control. Special interest segments would be published in the paper, applauding his efforts. They might even print a picture of him with Gyrich, or playing with his kids. 

In most instances, these events would occur. However, tonight, Gyrich's knight in shining armor didn't stay for the fanfare. In fact, he walked out of the hospital as soon as his burden was taken into the ER. Andrew McGavin got into his '85 Tempo with only two things in mind: telling his kids the best bedtime story ever, and hoping that those mutants insured that Allison Stills got what was coming to her. Everything else could wait until after the prince and princess defeated the dragon and saved the village. 

It was a good thing Andrew left the scene so quickly. Within ten minutes, Operation: Wideawake had arrived, closed off an entire unit of the hospital, taken Gyrich to a chopper on the roof, and threatened the entire ER staff with twenty years in federal prison (if they were lucky) if any news of Gyrich's injury, arrival, or departure ever reached the media's ears through one of them. 

Five minutes later, every trace of Gyrich's presence was gone and all the attending physician could do was hope the extra weight in his pants was not what he suspected it was, or at the very least that no one thought any less of him because of it. 

From the looks on everyone else's faces, he assumed his dignity was still intact. 

* * * * * 

Angelo was only half conscious when he heard footsteps outside Izzy's door. The two of them still lay behind the small couch, his body cocooned around her smaller one. Both of them were shivering violently now, but at least Izzy's lips had lost most of the blue cast and her breathing had evened out. 

The sound outside the door grew louder, and Angelo did his best to hide them further behind the couch. Izzy had passed out some time ago, all the transporting, along with the near death experience had finally caught up with her, he supposed. Honestly, he wasn't in much better shape. His was cold, his body ached, and he just wanted to curl up in the wooly blanket Jubilee had thoughtfully given him for Christmas and tell the world to go away for a while. 

But right now, he was worried about whoever was behind that door. If the calvary had finally arrived, then his wooly blanket dreams could soon become a reality. But if those armored rejects had tracked them down. . . . well, he didn't think he could fight them off. Hell, at the moment, he wasn't sure he could stand. 

Angelo gritted his teeth. _Come on, hombre! You're a superhero, for God's sake. Get up!_

He unfolded himself from around Izzy and lurched to his feet. His vision went gray and his knees buckled as the door was kicked open. Angelo caught the back of the couch in a white knuckle grip, fighting to keep upright as he waited for the world to come back in focus. If his legs decided to work, he might have a chance of keeping the attackers away from Izzy and himself. He hoped the good guys had just arrived, because if the bad guys had found them, they were so screwed. 

"Skin?" he heard someone ask through the haze that refused to leave his brain. 

Finally something started to come back into focus. A man in a long trench coat and a woman with fiery red hair stepped into the room. He sighed in relief as he felt all the remaining energy bleed from him in a rush of used adrenaline. 

"Thank God," he muttered before falling back to the ground 

* * * * * 

TBC. . . 

_What, you think the calvary's there and everything's all right? Iceman's still in a bad way, not to mention Izzy, Skin and HPG. Emma and the gang still have to rendezvous, and don't forget about Ms. Stills. She certainly hasn't forgotten about Iceman, or the others. But what's Operation: Wideawake's position on all of this? Are they shocked and appalled, or has Henry Peter Gyrich really and truly been left in the dark?_

_You'll find out all of this and more, next chapter. Until then, I bid you adieu. _

**I know this isn't a lot, but I just wanted to show you that, yes, I am planning on continuing this, especially now that I've got the juices flowing once again. I've just really got to get some sleep right now! (I work 10pm-6am) Send feedback, tell me what you think, and if it's worth still working on, or if it's a lost cause.** 


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